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Jul 2021
Alone in every sense.
I read to my self my words that sit crumpled.
I pick up a gay rose and eat it.  No where to go but up.  Down is a destination too. You learn a little bit more about yourself when you're down. My legs snap like a watermelon,  the putrid **** is stitched in my clothes.  Valiant hands salute. I spit on your flag. I spit on tyrants. I spit on collectives with no instilled values other than consumption. I laugh at every opportunity.  I  feed the mouse that sits in a log. It's been a long day and my eyes hurt.  Someone is yelling me that isn't me.  My head hurts too. Who knew
Jay earnest
Written by
Jay earnest  30/M/Socal
(30/M/Socal)   
86
 
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