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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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ADAM CHESLER
the whispering voices the next time you stroll behind that shadowy forest with its whispering voices almost inaudible silently speaking secrets the next time you leave our world take this memory of the day they murdered your family and you murdered nothing no one but yourself your terminal memory, while lying on the frigid floor beside cold corpses, last breaths escaping the void flowing ever closer your eyes nearly shut blood spraying profusely out of free veins you could see through the open living room window, outside against the breeze blown trees, the shadows danced playing their own instruments on the leaves to the rhythm of a life you’ll never own and you knew that the heart inside was approaching a halt on the long path through the wilderness you waited, smelling the sweet waft of autumn air where it finally came and your inside left your outside alone, in a pool of blood they all glared up at you as the gentle air took you away to the silent secrets of the forest and their whispering voices to walk behind trees that sway, swoop, and bend to hover, just above their veined limbs at the end of the day at the departing of your life lost in everything lost in nothing your bloody body snuggled away in the dimly lit corridor of our home. Adam Chesler is a writer of poetry, fiction, and obscene ramblings. Although his work has yet to find a space in either an online or print journal, his first collection of poetry, Skeleton Street, was published independently and is available by request. He lives in Atlanta, GA. |
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