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The District of Columbia - Red
10 77%
The Gatherer - Navy
2 15%
Untitled - Green
1 8%
Voters: 13.
The District of Columbia

On this late night bus, snug
despite the first-month chill outside,
we wander down the winding scar
of interstate to the Capitol

where, in the tired half-light
we will rise as one and speak
in the furious tone of our forefathers.
As my eyes stumble over the crowd, I find

that the windows have been crystallized
with our collective breath and I can
almost catch the minute creaks of people
shifting in their seats.

The intercom bursts to life
and a woman's voice, harsh and metallic,
echoes down the aisle. In spite of myself,
she becomes the elderly but powerful

pastor at my grandmother's old church.
We used to go every Sunday morning,
crammed inside the tiny congregational hall,
baptized in the soft angles of stained glass.

Years later, I'm here again: gathered at dawn
with the people of my faith, praying that
this time, I will look out over the
congregation, hand outstretched,

and grasp a moment of revelation.

The Gatherer

I am the man who lives all alone
in the place that nobody has seen
where snow falls like waves and the sun knows no home
in darkness I lie and wait

Search no more, for the master of tears
for he's found his barren thoughts here
when the drops by his feet dried before he could blink
I destroyed him in the palm of my grief

And when the martyr of sin came to lie by my door
where he moaned like a dog in the shadows
I cast him not even scraps or bones
But consume did he, with an atheist's tongue

Yes, I am that man who collects all the dreams
of hope that might be forgotten
And I am the man in whom pain is born
in a blackness with no door
So, think you are lost and find my words here
where once light burned through the clouds
But know I exist in worlds only my own
Know I can be, but never go home


Look now,my heart lay
pulsing at half measure,steadily.
Waiting for yours to pick up beat
and let our hearts ring
into the same frequency,
and so others hear them play.
When all it really is,
is the sound of our thoughts,
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
blue has bit of a flow issue

green 1 is good but narration in red 1 is far more superior

so red one for me