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you deflate the heavy silence

hope leaves behind

each time it disengages me

tired strained

/ off


to a more patient user


you are moist haze

silver almost

thru peripheral

if I could only look straight into your eyes

I’m wrapped in steel wool

pain ate away

my strength pride

I can’t relax and handle things


yes come closer

but to touch you

grey moss would grow

on my fingertips my teeth

the walls yawn loud again

you’ll break into a blue sweat

become a single cold tear

turning over

\ shut

in your orphic pod


us forever


copyright 2016







About a. edward watkins

With the exception of 2 years study of western music theory and harmony- I am a self taught percussionist, writer and abstract painter. Not your drummer boy drummer - not your writerly writer nor the painterly painter. Creativity is an integral aspect of my existence - as it is for us all - in some form or another. My experiences in life have informed and shaped my world view profoundly. I am the disrupter - the never quite satisfied - the relentless creator of word, sound and image. I question the answers and question the questions.

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