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La Estrella

by Honestcourtesan

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Maudlin me 04:56
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When I awoke
 There were flowers bedside my bed.
 Not from a lover
 Or for the dead.
 They were picked from my dream, planted by my hands forgotten by my feet. I would have liked they were
Black-eyed Susan’s, Camellias or Carnations.
 Instead they were Holly
from my parent’s tree. Always and rotund But crushable, sanguine beads. I would have liked they were
white or even red tulips, a tuberose, Magnolia.
 Instead they were Lavender
which drew my nose To sneezing, Belied by its delicate beauty. I would have liked there were umbels of Queen Ann’s Lace, a tapestry. Instead there was one Stargazer,
 She begged for a vase of her own,
 And now there is no time. She has quaffed all in one gulp.
 Who wouldn’t be drawn to her silk kimono? None of those flowers could do it:
Not as a bouquet, not one by one. So I slumber again and dream of this black thumb.
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Madame X 04:04

credits

released November 20, 2012

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Honestcourtesan Nashville, Tennessee

Thrust into a world of linearity and the loss of magic.
loose wallpaper unraveling,
stitch by stitch by stitch, molting at breakneck, black hole speed, to reveal infinite dimensions.
A suit of threadbare flesh rest at its core, a vessel for the naked skin of curiosity and lust for being lost in inquiry.
And from the dust, la estrella was born.
... more

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