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atendante

published: 2-7-2020

 

up here in the peaks of the mountains
the wind whips my face like a palm
a backhanded slap from a formerly soft hand
shouting at me to be calm

let the days of forgetting begin
us, wrapped together in a summer haze
you, wondering what passes by behind your eyes
scraps of memories from abandoned days

I hold so much of other people inside of my heart
a dash from here, maybe a hand or two fron a friend
thousands of people, names long since forgotten
whose only contribution to me was a dent in the end

maybe one day, millions of eyes will stare at these pages
and might find an eyeball or two staring back
for an artist's life is constantly on display
always living for imagined attack