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This morning
I woke up
I had three
cigarettes for breakfast
and I went back
to bed
crucified
by my comforter
my arms
really just anchors
but at
least I ate
breakfast.
Some days it's difficult to
Escape
The clutches
Of my bed
I know
That
I'm not
Actually alone
And that
Dying won't
Really solve
Anything
So I'm just
Stuck
******* thinking
About it
All I can
Hope
Is that
Soon
I'll be over
The edge
you've
given me enough
love notes
that I could
fold an
army of
cranes
spider hands
with your whispering
webs weaved
in place

cold carbon
carrying
songs of
somber souls
sick sickle
someones

spider hands
you wrap yourself
in your own
mesh
Giving blood
to make
sense
of letting you
go
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