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A Poem by Travis Knight

When the dragons in the sewers awake,

disturbing a snoring red shimmer,

distantly nearby,

with color which matches eyes,

crawling from a green day,

and into a yellow evening.



That distasteful time,

dwindles in a burgundy corner,

pulsating with reminiscing,

such a bummer then,

and such a blessing now.

Never will return become,

but sickly,

special it remains.


That spot on the speck,

when the air stood still,

and a late-night crow,

sang for shakes to be.

When dark blue canyons reigned.

When winters withered nose hairs.

When crystals coated dry lungs,

and dry compassion.


Now a sharp ruthless stream rages forth,

as a time of horrid then,

crafts and curdles,


a mystic when.

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