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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Cultural · #2013013
How difficult, to let it go.
Riding through a tapestry of nights,
bleeding softly, into the giant mouth of the gathering dark,
Neon fingers, like jelly fish
Floating in the sky,
Collecting, collapsing, running like thread,
Jellyfish finger neon night spread like damp muslin over my years,
I breathe hesitantly through the layers of cloth, wetness and dust on my chest,
I can smell you nearby, as like a shooting star into the bottles of fire and light i go, feel your purple essence on the tips of my hairs,
You are locking and unlocking the gates to my soul, your black lips sucking on mine and your arms like giant branches,
Is there a road where the night ends,
A phosphorescent pale green sea, perhaps,
Where the night melts and falls to dust,
The sky will open its eyes, a millennia old pair of yellow-blue eyes,
A thousand stars attached to the clouds, like debris from dead worlds,
The winds play with the ears of the night
And an orangeness grows in its belly,
Is this the road when the darkness is chewed over,
This white, ashen strip, like cold dead metal rounding out into place where the trees sleep or talk incessantly of still born babies and dreams,
Is this the road ?
That sea, where all the ashes are buried and the waters peel callused skin
Is this the sea?

How difficult it is, to say goodbye to the old, old, night, bedfellow and memory whisperer, joined to the tips of my fingers, in between my teeth, blood night/waste watchman/prehistoric ship of collected miseries, both mine and others,/
How difficult, to let it go.
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