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prayers to a disillusioned god

cold sweat morning.
Too deaf for noise
but again the lacquered thoughts.
They come with faded illumination,
death being but a single way of loss,
and pressed onto my mind
so haphazardly printed on the backs of eyes
I see blind anger fleeting.
Though it may take months, hours,
possible to count in solar eclipse increments
it too passes, a meteor in the night.
Fallen but to those who lack the rights of sleep.
And undeserving {we} fail
to see the in betweens
Tiptoe our way through worded barrages
of perfection and discipline.
Utter Destruction. they find us aggressive
and the passive few who falter don't recognize
our own mutilation's already begun.
The clock's hit an hour and tossed me from bed
but the light's yet to rise
and there are still whispered prayers
to a disillusioned god. Somewhere.
That the death of night be painless.
or at the very least,
be only felt by those of us
Who failed to watch it live.

18 Apr 10

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Neat poem
 — psychofemale

 — silentspring

anyone else?
 — silentspring

I think I might like this more if it was capitalized. I don't know why but I feel it needs that. Some parts of this are just spectacular: "lacquered thoughts", "worded barrages of perfection and discipline", "whispered prayers to a disillusioned god", "death of night be painless". Beautiful write. If you capitalized the right parts, I would like it more. (As it is now it fades into the background too much rather than grabbing my attention as it should because of all the lowercase. Just me though and my humble opinion.)
 — elysium

 — silentspring