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<description>Hopeless as the last leaf in autumn when all the rest have already fallen.</description>
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<copyright>Copyright 2000-2006 Stacie Forman</copyright>
<category>Poetry</category>
<category>Art</category>
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<title>Dark Poetry April 15, 2006</title>
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there's a kink in this logic. full throttle transition from everything to none. examing the pain does not grant you power over it. only the illusion that you know the names of your demons. 
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<title>Dark Poetry April 12, 2006</title>
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Muddy shoulders. Choking on ego. Sleeping by the phone. Soft beards in two-tone. 
Pain. Real live pain. A new drug. Brand new purple and blue bandages for all these old wounds.
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<title>Dark Poetry April 10, 2006</title>
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Did you lock the door? Did you lock the door? 
He must've asked at least a half dozen times. 
No, dear, I didn't and now here we are. 
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<title>Dark Poetry April 9, 2006</title>
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You know, I did try to call. A time or two, but no one answered. 
I'm not really there. 
I did try to be like everyone said I should, so full of myself. Just no one responded. Except to tell me that I wasn't there.
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<title>Dark Poetry April 8, 2006</title>
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please remove the empty cup. otherwise i'll keep trying to drink from it. as long as it's there. as hollow as it is. unconsciously drawing it to my lips. over and over. as many times as i find nothing there, moments later i try again. 
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<title>Dark Poetry April 6, 2006</title>
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The curve comes. Sounding us out letter by letter. In syllables too phonetic. Where everything can hear itself. How it would sound should someone else speak us.
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