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Jan 2019
Travel to oblivion
And leech life from it
The throb of your arm
Bloodies the jar
Of some vainly collected cosmos
Irreverent in the face of your mandates
Or your pleas
Or your jurisdictions
Apparently the fool you are
Hasn’t met the fool you’ve been
Those calloused knees
Can’t help but crawl to heaven’s gate;
Two feet from it
And you collapse again
In some self-righteous descent
Back to Earth
Where Mother Epicuria
Spits in your face
And offers a novel treasure
“Oh my Savior my God
Spare me from this pain I abhor”
And in the same breath you beg
To be amorphous once more
collin michael
Written by
collin michael  21/M
(21/M)   
303
   Fawn
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