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"A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures." The Picture of Dorian Gray

Saturday, December 25, 2010

day one hundred sixty: i just listen.

to the rain
beating down my door
flooding into the open holes
in my mind
taking over my senses
wet, cold, shivering
i simply listen to the words
drowned out by the moisture
between my ears
my brain is flooded with your ideas
some would call my brain clean;
washed;
it's new
hope you're happy
i hope you're happy too
because now
all i can do
is mimic you
or drown trying to escape
the things you've made me think.

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