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Dilemma
I hesitated, for I was not sure of our return, together, from this journey across your skin. Our lively whispers, which had once blossomed nights of sibilant brooks, were spent, sprouting abattoirs where words bled memories dry. The streets, which had pursued us till they got entangled with the creases of our palms, the facades, which had spied upon us as we kissed under the neon lights, seemed hallucinations of the fornicated flesh. Sleep, which had once slurred the distance between our dreams and had plaited our limbs, lies undone. Now on this trip time had traveled on and had left me with a zipper, that was stuck midway of a long thread of breath. I let go, for I knew I had become a fossilized memory of your flesh.
The Receding Tide
In the moments before waking when the city was weaving dreams of concrete, the tide of the night receded and left in its wake creatures of the deep, forms from the void. On the sidewalk an oyster lay unopened, preserving a drifting dream from a land alien. The blanket in its filigree had trapped the night just enough for a home to thrive. A sardine gasped for breath in the last puddle of darkness on the pavement. Through the rancid stream of traffic had she waded in the night to sell the ministrations of love, And now she was exhausted. Two stumps for feet, the Barnacle, clung to the uninviting shop front. The incoming tide of day, promised salvation. For with the alms from the gratuitously generous could he unleash the stupefaction of the night, stacked in the bottles behind him.
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