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Ayeglasses
Poems
Mar 2021
Fourier Z
It is not with the palm of my hand,
nor the skin pressed against it.
I crumble under the worry that is the bones -
itβs the bones that cannot stand the weight.
Ghosts in the Machine. Message free.
Written by
Ayeglasses
Seattle Born/SΓ£o Paulo
(Seattle Born/SΓ£o Paulo)
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