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On an october evening

My tide was born out of Genesis through the aching womb of the women breeding
Through the mire that surrounds the bible-black infirmary
Where I was given a leaden-dose of fare-thee-well
Under there evil-ridden smacks and coarse perverted innuendos
I was reared in the pessimistic bliss
Made to believe that I was Zeus’ fingertips
Touching heaven with every report card and trophy
That so adorned my stank bedroom
But I soon saw that my mask was as crusty as the rest
Filling with sweat and debris
Like what clung to my 3 year old shoes
Making war within the blossom of a dream
That was as false as this mirror right before me
Trying to peer through it
Unable to see the cracks in my face
That are so ever clear when I stand amidst horses
I begin to understand how it is to fly
Within the walls of my head
But still they they rise with the white-encrusted malice
I cannot breathe the voice of your breath
It chokes my eyes
And I am struck by ever single beautiful butterfly of my soul
Willing to climb the cliffs within my own self
My beautiful fancy, You one and only,
WHO I CHERISH,
Within a death grasp I cannot hold you dear enough
because I always have a premonition of losing you
To something outside my own person
A stranger with wings like a rapier
Cutting at me
Bringing me close to a heaven-enclosed release
And yet, there is so much to be grateful for
A Monet like sky I worship like mine own hand
Given into my shapes that imprint upon me
Thats what you give me
On/Off
A silence within this thunderstorm
So I can mutter loudly and truth can abound
And yet my stars will never be too much that you will escape
And all these hymns and all my words are yours.

Other works by Jeremy Andrew Barthelemy...



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