We Liberate We - Poem by Alexander Hawkins
There is something disperate in the air.
Insects are smashed against the wall,
leaving mired mocha currents.
This whole game is just for kicks.
I don't mind telling you something is up
but what it is, I don't know. Some gravelly
substance with a decent crunch.
We rattle. We crackle.
We were searching for the right words,
left only with our adapted memories
of things intended to you,
in order to remember me.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You