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Jul 2013
I feel like a body with no title;
A life that breathes with nothing to define it by.

It seems as though my engine as grown idle,
my tires ground to a halt,
my battery on empty (as well as my tank).

As I stand next to my life
     looking into the distance
all I see is fog.
The sound of my last cigarette fills the air around me as
it too
come to a halt.

Just as the last fiber of my being begins to unwind,
in helpless torment of the weight bearing on my soul,

James Tyler
Written by
James Tyler  Memphis
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