I
MAY NOT NEED IT
By Sam
Silbiger
It's
the feeling.
colors and sounds, soft
the your welcome paralysis
lost, focused, found
past passing of time without time
disorient calmly
smoothly
knowing what said what who
but not who said what
drift, but not morosely
to see why you said and what felt
to feel, not know, feel
let glorious black
white and grey
be insomnia the dream
softened colors, lost focus found
the climax ends amorphous if
Tinker of the mind, without black bands,
says waking naturally takes a moment.
It makes sense, I suppose.
An answer as the title of the piece.
Have you slept?
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TORN
PETAL
By Carol
Ann Bond
She
was exactly that, a torn petal
marred beauty,
a rotten rose.
She
was like that crystal
line vase that begged to be broken.
There was a putrescence,
in those beautiful raw umber eyes,
and an unsteadiness in mind.
It was definitely fly to spider.
And
I ask you to define which I was.
The whiteness f her skin like day old milk
and her smell of lavender wafting through the air.
Yes, I was in love with her
and what better reason to mesmerize her,
to break her, to use her in my reckless plan.
'oh, murder most foul.'
And
I would never be accused.
Poor, poor dove.
I am laughing inside.
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