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Guest Poems > sunny

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The rain-
that aluminum drainpipe
random non rhythm - it is the madness -
the telegraph of loneliness
messages to decode alone.

Streetlamp like a norse funeral flame
floating in the windy evening,
static beyond the floating shade -
a delapidated theatre.

An envelope will not contain this sadness
as I skirt the edge of this moment -
these moments of stagnation - the non-reality
sickening and inflated,
the patter of these drops
like the marred beauty of painted diamonds.