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Where heart meets blood.
- by Craig Turnwall
I think a man's heart beats fast
when he thinks about the hour before him,
and the new,
a moment when he feels bent, or lapse,
night crept upon him like a bleeding wound, dream
woke with faded light, night on the creep,
mindless drum, anticipation of not finding a way again,
to make morning,
he wants heliocentric ideas, in a moon phased wanderlust,
all that is dark is long,
battered can be a cool breeze, men think with their souls wide open,
sidewalk is tragic, death is tragic, pain is not a fearless endeavor,
all scars remind of past achievements with regeneration, blood pumped
toward goals coursed during walk and sleep,
what wonderful conquests you entertain, adrenaline,
this palpitation and open window.
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Work By
Craig Turnwall
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