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this feature and these wonderful works of art, thank you!

The amount of artistic talent here on dA has always amazed me, I feel like it should be a privilege to be able to feature such amazing pieces as these. Therefore, without further ado this Sunday's Specials
Literature 
Arsenic.i.
It's just like talking
to anyone else
ii.
I cried when you wrote
that, just like when
I took your letters
down, and when you
told me you didn't
love me, anymore
iii.
and, I cannot
find a method
to pretend that
you were just
some lover
iv.
there are people
who make me laugh
like you never did,
but
I do not feel safe
with any of them;
v.
and I thought
about falling into
your arms next
year, when you
come back,
imagined
remembering how
to feel at home
and then
remembered
vi.
in all senses
of the word,
you will not
come back
home
vii.
oh, you over think things
and maybe I do,
but the things
are you.

Red ShiftI. Stasis i.
"I need to hide a body,"
The crispness
Before a question is asked
Is interrupted
"Yours."
I. Stasis ii.
I hang up on him
And hesitate;
Wait for vivisection
By vibration;
Wait for him to call back
To confirm
What he heard.
I can hear him
Go back to sleep.
II. Intravenous i.
He is alive.
Photos of him
Have a distant red shift
In his eye.
Photos of me
Have an approaching blue tint
In the iris.
I wait for him to call back
To confirm
What he heard.
II. Intravenous ii.
I'm digging
For the others
I had hid a town or two away.
The shovel
Won't break the cul-de-sac asphalt
Where forest floor
Had been.
II

Sensationali. a person of vision
I could stare forever into your blue abyss, but I have to blink sometimes.
The world is so beautiful to me, ever changing and never changing, simultaneously. I see it all through a filter of a greenish - gold iris and short brown lashes and I wonder if the world looks different through blue eyes, your eyes. Or through black eyes and a fringe of chopped hair, or brown eyes watching through coke bottle glasses. I intend to see the entire world, with every set of eyes imaginable, and I want see you from every angle in every place. Is it all so beautiful to you as well?
They say you only see about ten percent of the world

7.34mmA simple measurement
can make a man
lose himself; a blurring, no more
than a grainy smudge
a scant 7.34mm long
this rice-grain, seven weeks old
with one hundred and twenty nine
heartbeats per minute
all this, from a mere sesame-seed of a heart

Red TerrorRed. The colour of revolution and the working class. The colour of stop, wrong and no. A red flower, from a girl in a red dress, as a gift to a young Cossack. Generations of red flags waving in streets, with cries of change, freedom and franchise.
The colour of love. Of lust. Of lost. Love and hate, passionate words in their own right. Both bare blood. Both bare joy. A child or a murder. Birth and death. Alpha and Omega.
A red rose, sharp thorns with red beads dripping. Crisps petals fall towards the earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Leaves on a dry autumn morning. A flame across a whole nation. Ideas spread like wild fire.
Burnt dreams

A Confusion of ConversationA Confusion of Conversation
I think you were waiting for your "thank you"
And I was waiting for contrition
An admission that you were wrong
(I had waited oh so long)
Maybe that's why we stared blankly
When we met as strangers
Neither of us knowing
The script the other one had written
I had asked for an admission
But it was something that I never heard you say
You didn't get your "thank you" anyway.
And why we met
Like strangers lost
Why we didn't recognize
Each other's cost
Was up to you
I had no say
You never got your "thank you" anyway.
And the words
I longed to hear
The ones I needed
So I could heal
I was too tacit for my mission
Photography
