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god
oh,
glory of the
green-painted grass and
cliffside strewn with pure ink
God, surely unreal
jesus man i'm really sad :(
months of fantasies
in captivity,
now choked
and subdued
it's a metaphor. it's always a metaphor
insufflation:
the result of desperate pleas
for departure
but also
camaraderie
for brothers who suffer
with me
How I surely missed
glorious, bold
poison;
But sacrifice only
makes selfishness all the more
apparent
mom
forgetfulness, absent
how could you forget a name?
A love,
seemingly only maternal
but reciprocated pain
I can apologize for every time,
but have you ever?
The hard callouses
promised manhood
upon palms,
soft as rustling trees.
Packed bags,
the ones we took to rivers,
tears against flannel with every hug
on a Friday,
every single Friday.
And next week:
more of the same.
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