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Never Happening

by Johnny Crimson

The time ignites
the summer spark,
so few will fight
flashlights in the dark.

An aging bird
with shedding wings,
speak the words
and make her sing.

The canteen blues,
a desert's heat,
palm trees lose
the will to be.

A cancer stick
with hollow tip,
slowly she licks
dreams in her lips.

Cut the bill,
pay the charge,
infect her will
to stay at large.

Anonymous to you
but so defined,
it's something new
we've tested and tried.

It's called defeat,
or maybe dreams,
whatever the beat
she matches her screams.

Here we are
2 feet apart
still so far,
away from the dark.


Posted on 08/06/2012
Copyright © 2022 Johnny Crimson

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