A Tale of Samarkand

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“It’s so dark, where am I?” came her words of distress
Miriam wasn’t supposed to be blind
It was a weather stricken condition she’d learned to detest
The gods of the Kyzyl Kum desert were to blame for it
going out into oblivion to escape invading hordes was dangerous
The hottest day of the year took her vision & strangled it
Heat exhaustion caused a stroke, even fleas were coughing, comatose
when she whispered pleas, walls erected –
the green Earth shut its contents… armaments of darkness flowed
Exiled to the shadows; the muted springs of nowhere
while her husband was busy stargazing, she’d sit in her oak chair
Every ounce of the visual spectrum so bare it blacked out Samarkand

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An Unveiling

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Cynthia, you should really try being yourself if you intend to succeed
This projection of being an impeccable tease is terrible, please
The endless, senseless deceit tends to be cheap, a weapon you wield
And a futile one at that; you may as well swing a tire wrench at the breeze
Men think you a tired wench & a skeez… for what, your archetypical traits?
I’m gonna have to ask you to abandon the glittering carriage of narcissism with haste
Selflessness… let it nestle into the comfortable bedchamber of your own psyche

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