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1 minute read
DEATH OFANAVIATOR I
by abjcdsss
DEATH OFANAVIATOR I
flying low midway on his last journey london was like a toy-town he had known once · as a child · where he could play unending games · where the streets and shops were all his own the fields of love and fame stretched out below him the glory of the world could still be his only the tears he felt stinging his eyeballs told him his life had ended up like this sliding down the silver snake of river as he had done in dice-games as a child he would not throw again nor seek a ladder the downward urge itself had become mild the things he’d wanted most had never happened he felt · before the obliterating green the scalding liquid · thinking it was petrol not him · boy-scared · waking from a bad dream i did not mean to write a poem about him he was proud and vain · perhaps not very bright but choosing his death he chose me out to see it flashing an instant on the darker night
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