Somber Sobriety

My brain wakes up and cries for the death of its living baby. so used to hurling ourselves [booze] down the hatch, the still afterwake unscathed is surreal; like crying when happy, our system malfunctions.

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Wicked

Je veux envelopper mes bras autour de vous, mais vous ne me le permettez pas. Quel monde quel monde quel monde Me fondre.

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Spinster

short-shorted piggy-bunned riding that baby blue bike through the grass fronts of small business and edges of town on a monday day. — no one knows you’re 27. pedophiles eye you, suspiciously, that you know how traffic functions.

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Addiction: Middle Management of Capitalism

exertion charred lungs feel good after branding, though spin class is actual hell. endorphins, you are not booze or coffee, but you are okay [for now] — suddenly there is so much more to do. Not addiction constrained to certain locations everywhere is a place to be; my body, unhooked from IV free to explore.…

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This bird is Trapped in my Camera Frozen in Take-off Forever

the plant extended itself just slightly towards the sun to motion, “hey, I need more.” maybe we all have a way of doing that whether cognizant of our own movement or not. — a centipede flew down from the wood awning fearlessly then skittered across floor boards in pursuit of destination building crevice [pretending it…

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A Beautiful Prison For Them

This is where all of the horrible things live. I lifted it from my drawer and exhaled, “oh no,” accidentally letting my animal out of it’s cage. I forgot where My memories had moved to. I changed their address and lost their coordinates. — it was not a part of me anymore because [because] it…

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blanket beats fire

I was taught love was the wrong details of an oil painting.   the image: a blanket wrapped around a stranger in a desert night, desperately trying to keep warm by a fire.   I was taught the only way for anyone to love me was for them to light me ablaze stack of kindling…

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