i believe the word i “effervescences” Still great poetry!
It would always end this way.
The onslaught of the cold bites in my face raking silence to the foreshore to the leave-taking of winter pleas with sorrow and penances alone
That trace abandoned into neurological thoughts, into weaves of ice that coalesces the ambrosial sunset (in which that dies) in father’s sea. It transmits into my eyes as my tears start to slip into the ocean.
I reach to swaddle my face with my hands to be alone, to not think, but repentance, from not I, cracks to the beginning of the mind like a fantasy.
I want to leave it all behind, but it falls to the recitations that I hear from dreams that lust for closure and forgiveness.
It nearly kills me. Maybe I want it to consume me.
There’s never an end, there’s never an epilogue to suffering, so what is it?
When I place my…
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