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Jul 2014
Hell is being drunk before eleven o'clock on a weekday morning
but the shade of some tree is solace in the summer sleeping
He left money on the side counter
so she smoked a bowl as his shadow drifted through the door frame
and she drifted too, only into the bed and back to sleep
crying in her dreams
Destroy this poem.
Reece
Written by
Reece
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