I yawned. It smelt of bleach. A shot of Clorox. Pre-caution to sanitize the words,
That were sure to stain the decency of consistent language.
Though my stomach burned with agony. I held a tongue on repeat memories.
'The flesh is weak.' I thought.
Not before asking:
“That of freedom? What do you think of such a lustful need? ”
A tongue roll. Coupled with fingers crossed. Onto a punch that collided with the plastic door.
What shook the nails from the coffin? Why not the bleach. But the answer.
“Don't waste time on thinking of freedom.
Or you risk being a slave to thoughts.”
A.j. Binash's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Own Me by A.j. Binash )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Ernest Henley
(1849 - 1902)
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