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Apr 2019
Cinder-headed,
I swim smoked
tea until tongue's
angles of ash.

Marbling ache,
eyes threaded
with fever, skin
rides every last

avenue in the air.
Thoughts scatter,
ice diary desolate,
cinder-headed.
Evan Stephens
Written by
Evan Stephens  44/M/DC
(44/M/DC)   
85
   Fawn
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