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IAN SANTORA

Deadlines

Deadlines

Deadlines

Deadlines

Check another distraction

Resigned to 

Waiting 

Waiting 

Building a life of 

Questions 

How’s the husband 

How’s the husband

How’s the husband

Online to 

Wait online to 

Wait online to

Wait online to 

Wait online 

And if I wanted to say what we wait for

I would like to 

Make headlines but

Thorns in sides of bushes 

Of the same garden grow together

Grow forever

Flowerless

Fed less bread than lines 

About breadlines

Swept over

Lines of flight might have it right

But beaten to the future by the dead

Lines ink dripped away from pages 

By the water on me

The water on me

The water on me

Short circuit

Tangled together

Sit 

Waiting for age

Enter a trance eyes roll back and 

Complain about fashion

All new angles on architecture

Eating up the resemblance 

Smiling portraits 

Yellow paper in frames lining walls

Stuffing golden days in a box like nothing 

Else was ever young

And deadlines on all sides

Missed

Impending 

Missing unattainable

Unnameable 

Nothing 

And knowing

Knowing 

Waiting 

To be alone in one body

I am not a mushroom

A beehive 

Or divine 

I am planning to sleep through my government assigned afterlife

Maybe knowing that I’m waiting 

For the primordial 

Deadline