Justin Hall's personal site growing & breaking down since 1994

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Amy Page

long jump lovers (4/15/97)

she paused herself in a medium where
i am voiceless
afraid she said of my persuasive powers
she avoids discourse on the issues
inevitable sadness stemming from language
explaining another useless infraction

stress takes itself out on my body now

as i grip tools
my writing write back stunted some
i am freer now, falling
starts an unfamiliar and experienced descent
into passable madness.
friends will step up some, other nexts
i dawdle some in vindiction regret and dream
i deserve everything and go does she

i am even provoked to force

i will set myself free from this information
our spawn is that only and self-destruction
what of possessions? of the savage mess vision between

my mourning is anger
verging on impotence
i am left w/out recourse when people make me smile or try
i want grace to let her go peace
but i am bitter sad, for dreams

at least i can blame myself than
leave her an unwitting participant
or even better a powerish pawn
persuaded to date me beyond reason
so far away, communicae
what is left but this art
we made, like children so much so short
our small house teeming with our union reminders
soon it will be on the market
pieces to go for new families
up for adoption, better just different parents
i am too wraught when i don't respond right
as i know how
patterns of actiopn got ne here and now
i can only write to relief-veil my petty intentions
and describe for posterity the minutiae of my
course of cognition in a tender state

saddest am i that i miss her already

and i might be jumping the gun
the familiarities are hers to claim, i am spunout sinking
and tomorrow when its all better
and we might have worked some moon magic
i will be glad that i have resigned already

or that i was right to feel abandoned

left lurching leering learning
(I have seen so many creative fueled by abandonment
so surely i have a deep reservoir occasionally flow)
my sight spins around her us, there is no distraction
but i'm hurting in places i can't conceive
i'm wandering alone a Honduran Road, I'm speaking solo in Sweden
my pattern of action unchanged except intention
that's the difference between homicide and manslaughter
i'm forgot to breather
and she will leave
i have one last package to send her
today i found funny clippings
of real estate agents
to paste on the envelope
it was a purchased reply
to a suggestion she made:
that we trade across
our distance a notebook
to fill with alternating
response and inspiration

so now i see fit to miss
the driving drum
of primary affection

i will starve without it
wander the savannah, in a cave

i have, i discover, made a masterful trade

ur, it has been made of me)
i am left justin-maker, let go of flesh comfort and bed destiny
sacrifice sweet skin that smelled like my saliva
create first this seveuring