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Sep 2013
This city feels like spinning wheels
carving deeper into the earth
with each revolution.
I'm up to my knees,
now.
I inhale the dust
until my lungs are gravel
and my teeth and tongue
have no memories
except dirt
and the ache
of chewing your name.
I used to like
to hear the wind
and the rain
delivering my morse code messages,
spelling everything out.
I used to trust
the things the storms would say.
When did I develop a fear of gray?
CRH
Written by
CRH  ND
(ND)   
  1.1k
   ---, Dag J, ---, ---, EJ Aghassi and 12 others
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