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May 2021
Like the sun’s drop into the reflected
Ocean horizon
I submerge into the filth
Of corporate greed
I maintain separation, but from your beach
Appearances can be decieving.

From height, the bottom is abyss
But I have seen into it
And I have become it
And my hands no longer appear before me.

As if there was ever any purpose, anyway.
Purpose and effort, money and survival. Why even try?
Joseph Rice
Written by
Joseph Rice  32/M/Virginia
(32/M/Virginia)   
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