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Mar 2017
It's when the morning gray
bleeds into my eyes through blinds
that the night concedes
to day, officially
Under the bare cover
through dead trees, slice power lines,
growing, connecting
meats virtually
It's with the rising steam
from porcelain go all dreams
Coffee will run through you
fast as the day
When the light is on,
we're finally done
Words will not come
Words will not come
...
Zero Nine
Written by
Zero Nine  27/Non-binary/Portland, OR
(27/Non-binary/Portland, OR)   
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