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Rinoa Josh Crummer I’m falling for shadows on the cave wall, re-married deep brown eyes in roses and wine. Cute, not beautiful is testimony written across her brow before birth, for cute lingers long after beauty wrinkles to shades. In flower fields eroded into blank space and recycled air I wait. She promises we will meet, a slim figure in blue through which white wind flows into long black hair, her mischief smile, eyes on me. An avatar of computer code shares a name I gave him. I am not he, and he is not me, but our desires equate. Our heartstrings both out of tune, constant strum bass jabs us daily, haunting our sleep all night. If only in dreams, in a vintage console – yours is a world of heroes and swords. No one co splays as their avatar, for they are real. Mine is increasing waistlines, bottom line quotas at minimum wage, ad nauseam as Mobius, its sidewind gradually fading with mine and my neighbors’ minds. I wish to retire with her on shores watching the sun deep-sea dive all night, where idle music trumpets my headphones like a theme song, where if scattered clouds conceal evening sky, I can still see blue and brights and gray stroke across the world. Yes, a fisherman’s horizon as my early grave. I have fallen for the shadows on Plato’s cave wall, flung my body through space so you, I won’t die alone. Oxygen and fuel low, and lower with each second. I will bring her home, scripted as Hollywood until I shut the power down.

Profile for Ariana Den Bleyker

Emerge Literary Journal, Issue Four  

We are a new journal of online and print poetry and flash prose dedicated to emerging writers and their words. We aim to publish poets who a...

Emerge Literary Journal, Issue Four  

We are a new journal of online and print poetry and flash prose dedicated to emerging writers and their words. We aim to publish poets who a...

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