Leaving Auvers

Quiet but not silent, Those colors tell countless stories. Though they can't tell me what The two figures in the undergrowth were saying. And I doubt that Vincent Could have…

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A recent epiphany

It’s almost hilarious how The way anxiety has corrupted My senses, Is so closely related to the process Of writing poetry. My personal terrors, Have shaped the way I think…

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In the open

What I felt that moment, Was the most peculiar emptiness. Being more naked, than the term itself Is able to express. Stripped of skin, muscles, bones The last piece of…

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En passant

As you gazed briefly at the gap between frame and closing door, what was happening remained ambiguous. Unable to tell how many paper-thin promises would fit between you and the…

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Over night

As I’m grasping the intentions of the storm, Breeding discord between thunderclouds, My hands try to touch the aerial body of the night, Chasing for voices in the air, That…

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Gracious ink

Empty pages unfold, like open landscapes To hold every single “too much” shelled at the trenches of my endurance, until the ammunition supplies Of bad days run empty, and those…

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