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by Adam Levon Brown




Queer Confessional


Thinking about men
has only seemed natural
to me for 21 days and 6 hours.


Years spent denying my very core
and reveling in the fact
that I could do it.


The war has ended
and the dust has settled.
Cobwebs in my heart


have been replaced
with a renewed vigor.
I don't know where to go


from here, but my eyes
are set to the sky.
I am free.



a line, (a short blue one)


The Pursuit of Joy


The crimson stains
of a blood once filled
with power

Has regurgitated onto
the floor of regret

The platelets drip
into the sewer of
identity crises

The platelets drip
into the mouth
of syphilitic vampires

Mountains are moved
daily while Sisyphus
struggles with one rock

At the bottom of the hill
is where all life begins
and ends



a line, (a short blue one)




Thrombosis in the form
Of mediatainment encrusts
The rigid outline of our collective body


When lies become truth and
Truth becomes a lie, there is
A disconnect that belittles integrity


Disillusionment becomes the norm
And there is holding back the tidal
Waves from swallowing the innocent passerby


Mulling over articles about articles
About articles results in a type of brain
Mash and mind shatter


When will we be free from the
Herculean, devouring specter that is
the media industrial complex?




a line, (a blue one)


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