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Oct 2018
Comfort is not a guarantee.
5:30am, quiet reads while listening
to William Basinski.

Sometimes I imagine myself as a radio mast. Cold steel
built on a hill surrounded by forest and fog.
All I do is speak through tunes and blink my light.
And during the day I'm remarked as an eye sore.
you call this a poem? look into therapy
Jonathan Surname
Written by
Jonathan Surname  26/M/Appalachia
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