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Algernon Nov 2011
I keep reaching for my throat

I hit my neck
and begin to rub
it raw with repetition.
Algernon Nov 2011
Geographically speaking, we live very close to each other.


I was a dancer and then I got old.


I carried a muffin tin through curtains of rain and it drummed along with the rhythm of the weather, the atmosphere wrestling the ground.


Grinding sleep out of my eyes. It hurts.

— The End —