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JJ Mansolf
Poems
Sep 2012
Psyche
Trapped
In his own corrupt self-deprecation.
“Where am I now?
Where have I gone to?
This is not foreign.”
His face,
Beaten.
His clothes,
Tattered.
Desolate in four dimensions.
Not abandoned,
For he has the company of a thousand thoughts teetering on transmission.
Written by
JJ Mansolf
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