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I just kept thinking about that scan of your brain that was a very deep blue.
It was like all the lights had gone out in you and no one even knew why.

am kennedy, “when you were sick”

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I practice retreating behind my eyelids,
press the idea of sleep so deep into my
bones that surely my soul must feel it,
haven’t we spent enough days in the
dark wandering, wondering where the
silence has crept to?

No, the walls press and I guess we are
in for another serving of wide eyes,
drinking lies, and a hundred more
tries at finding the deep pools where
all other creatures have gone to rest.

It is a cruelty to witness beauty in a
life no one else is living, an
unkindness to be awake in all the
making of a universe, where the
magic dusts my eyelids but I cannot
close my eyes for the surprise of what
comes next.

am kennedy, “The awakening for the blind” (via siilentiary)
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I practice retreating behind my eyelids,
press the idea of sleep so deep into my
bones that surely my soul must feel it,
haven’t we spent enough days in the
dark wandering, wondering where the
silence has crept to?

No, the walls press and I guess we are
in for another serving of wide eyes,
drinking lies, and a hundred more
tries at finding the deep pools where
all other creatures have gone to rest.

It is a cruelty to witness beauty in a
life no one else is living, an
unkindness to be awake in all the
making of a universe, where the
magic dusts my eyelids but I cannot
close my eyes for the surprise of what
comes next.

am kennedy, “The awakening for the blind” (via siilentiary)

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There was no murder, not in this bleak house he says, but he hasn’t a weapon in hand, just a gunshot wound.

He drips soot and melody and consonants that smell like gasoline waiting for matchstick fingers.

He said it would come to this, it takes too long to bleed out all your color, the Big Bang always did have the right idea.

But why, but why? The artists sighs and never does he imagine that he was not his own maker.

am kennedy, “The first-degree lullaby”
Format Quote

There was no murder, not in this bleak house he says, but he hasn’t a weapon in hand, just a gunshot wound.

He drips soot and melody and consonants that smell like gasoline waiting for matchstick fingers.

He said it would come to this, it takes too long to bleed out all your color, the Big Bang always did have the right idea.

But why, but why? The artists sighs and never does he imagine that he was not his own maker.

am kennedy, “The first-degree lullaby”

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Not everyone gets kicked quite so early
and grows up believing this is an endurance test,
so do not be ashamed when they don’t
understand why you’re so quick to jump at shadows,
and flee from the sound of heavy boots.

am kennedy, “The invisible orphans”
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Not everyone gets kicked quite so early
and grows up believing this is an endurance test,
so do not be ashamed when they don’t
understand why you’re so quick to jump at shadows,
and flee from the sound of heavy boots.

am kennedy, “The invisible orphans”

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I was raised on lightning and learned
early on how thunder rippled across
a dozen miles when an unstoppable
force hit an immovable object.

I thought that was what I was,
immovable, unwilling to yield to a
force trying to break the foundation
upon which I lay.

I would never give you what you truly
wanted, I was stone, glacial ice,
the gravity of the situation that
moored me to the earth, and you
never could stand that.

Never could look at the sole survivor of
a hurricane with anything other than
envy. It’s takes nothing to be built of
steel, and everything to be built of
soft sinuously lines that never falter.

I grew up in a storm and maybe
that’s why my bones don’t fit quite
right, but these days I find that I
no longer even wake for the vibrations
of thunder and I no longer think
that what slinks in the corners of my
bedroom is anything more than
shadows.

And maybe that’s enough,
to be struck so many times that
flinching is a redundancy your nerves
have gotten tired of reproducing,
that you have been made again
in the image of roiling earth,
temperamental skies, and the
unstoppable energy of life.

am kennedy, “Seven strikes the snake”
Format Quote

I was raised on lightning and learned
early on how thunder rippled across
a dozen miles when an unstoppable
force hit an immovable object.

I thought that was what I was,
immovable, unwilling to yield to a
force trying to break the foundation
upon which I lay.

I would never give you what you truly
wanted, I was stone, glacial ice,
the gravity of the situation that
moored me to the earth, and you
never could stand that.

Never could look at the sole survivor of
a hurricane with anything other than
envy. It’s takes nothing to be built of
steel, and everything to be built of
soft sinuously lines that never falter.

I grew up in a storm and maybe
that’s why my bones don’t fit quite
right, but these days I find that I
no longer even wake for the vibrations
of thunder and I no longer think
that what slinks in the corners of my
bedroom is anything more than
shadows.

And maybe that’s enough,
to be struck so many times that
flinching is a redundancy your nerves
have gotten tired of reproducing,
that you have been made again
in the image of roiling earth,
temperamental skies, and the
unstoppable energy of life.

am kennedy, “Seven strikes the snake”

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That man is an absence of light,
and if the shadows get you feeling
itchy, no one needs to tell you that
it’s all in your head.
Paranoia is the first symptom of those
who know better than to expect
a happy ending.
Everything is a Before and an After,
you have miles of black thread from
sewing stitches in skin
stretched far too thin.
You don’t need to hear that it’s all
going to be okay because you aren’t a
person who sleeps at the wheel,
who goes in to battle without armor
and a battle axe.
So when that man does come,
sucking all the light from the room
and leaving you sickeningly blind,
at least you already know where
all the exits are.

am kennedy, “in case of emergency”