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  Aug 2015 mori
mike
a dead old man
living in the city
a dead old man living in the city of the young too young to be born.

they are without breath
he is without form.
  Aug 2015 mori
Doll Spaghetti
another 4:12 goes by

my hand still stings
from the night I used it to punch through her wall
when I walked on the frostbitten sidewalk
and it broke my fall
when i got sick of hearing her talk and typed
"don't call me anymore"

those days weren't too long ago, really

i got my solace in the end that their winter's grasp dripped away from my body when your spring sun showed up
and gave way as your burning summer wildfire lit my coal'd heart

— The End —