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Feb 2015
my lips are chapped, my skin is pealing, my thoughts are ripping
into pieces
i asked you where my chap stick went
please blink back
to at least let me know that you heard.

i am full of everything possible and the bathroom smells like vinegar and fresh paint
brushed along my skin
when will i hear your voice again?
part of a really rough poem i am working on. thoughts?
mouse
Written by
mouse  not a noose, it's a leash
(not a noose, it's a leash)   
317
   Audrey Gleason and ---
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