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Oct 2015
I remember things he says
He's profound and absurd
Using words that penetrate
His language swims through my skin like roads on city maps
I'm a discovered recluse painted.

His tongue doesn't grow flowers and plausible reactions of mine don't provoke his words
Our mouths intertwine with unmanageable forests
Without echoes
An unkempt birthplace of toxicity tunneling into our
black hole hearts
Mia Wallace
Written by
Mia Wallace  California
(California)   
569
   Dark soul, --- and r
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