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A halted herd of horses by a hill I will ascend -
if I am to be a beginning must I be an end?
The pleasant call of alcohol, like a siren in a glen,
and come nightfall might I stay with you again?
O! With you again!
Fennec foxes nestled in a den.
A broken band of brothers spurn the land they cannot flee.
If I am to escape might I be free?
But I'm disinclined to set my mind on that which shall not be.
And then our legs entwined, your body next to me.
You're next to me -
boats pulled on the shore out from the sea.
The leeching, lurid language of a note behind a pin -
has will gained strength or is patience wearing thin?
The subtle sounds that grace these grounds struck dumb by daytime din -
are you coming 'round, or are you giving in?
Are you giving in?
Left to visit "places you had been?"
A halted herd of horses by a hill I will ascend -
if I am to be a beginning must I be an end?
The pleasant call of alcohol, like a siren in a glen,
and come nightfall might I stay with you again?
O! With you again!
Fennec foxes nestled in a den.
Sirens in the glen,
labored lovers lingering in bed.
Hills I will ascend,
captive creatures curled up in a pen.
Must I be an end?
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In your words I felt shelter,
now I am as a snake under a stone.
I was a hare amongst bears,
I was a herd-horse on its own.
"How would you welcome a visitor into your home?"
I tasted her, I felt her.
She shaved her head, I was a louse.
And if you, too, were a fig amongst pigs,
if trouble swelled within through growth without,
"How would you ask to enter someone's house?"
Now a grass grows tall unnourished, unlit.
Or if I found another way of looking at it:
the old fall, the young falter, the joined split.
But those who claim lost love never really found it.
Now we deal with what I dealt her
with fingers stretched and anger brewing.
But if you dragged a mole from its hole,
if it came clear grief was ensuing,
"How would you ask someone how they are doing?"
Sent to hell to stir and swelter,
I returned and sought my love.
But if the way were many days,
if present passed as present does,
"How would you ask someone how his journey was?"
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In the battle of man against the beast
I was not injured in the least.
But O! My comrades were its feast!
In the battle of man against machine
I escaped unscathed and clean.
But O! What a hellish scene!
In the battle of man against the heat
I found myself with food to eat.
But kitchens fraught with spoiled meat
and farmland lined with sun-scorched wheat.
In the battle of man against the cold
I was able to grow old.
But O! You know death is bold!
For though I survived, as I have told,
I found myself with none to hold.
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It can't bother me if I don't let it:
The kitchen's freezing cold, the fridge is full of mold.
Maybe if I find another way of looking at it:
There's calmness in the air, I'm getting old and I don't care.
You gave me much too much, now I'm indebted.
You gave too much away, do you regret it?
It can't bother me if I don't let it.
The why of light on death.
There was something I was mad about, now I forget it -
Maybe if I found another way of looking at it.
If you ever wanted him you never said it,
But if it was paranoia, well you fed it.
There was a place I liked to go and now I dread it
and though I mean not to return I wouldn't bet it.
But it can't get to me 'cause I don't get it.
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