Tag: 365 Collection
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She said: take your curse, digest your sorrow, own your misery
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I love them, their blue stickish torsos and jaunty meanderings
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You will raise the spray to the sky, beloved, beautiful.
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I run from the wound causing mayhem along the causeway of my mind
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a hole in the mattress deep as I’d dug it
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These wounds will bubble over and grow, running in the streets consuming. Everything.
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When body is considered landscape and maps are considered time, we can feel what can’t be found
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That year we learned. D’Nealian forms; the tinny reek of Salisbury steak, the scorched tomato-sugar sauce on square-cut crust;
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After we’d killed the deer out on the highway the cows would stop me staring, how their hides, blotched like world maps
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I used to think a green room was where jealous people went
