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/

the people look like ache,

shriveled and lost inside

their twisted interpretations of movement.

we're tired here,

spitting out apologies and

niceties, the things expected

of a well mannered member of society.

looking at the hands passing by,

wrinkled and lined with everything

they've loved-

it's exhausting to think of every life you've contained.

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b
Written by
beth-winters
Published
Jan 19, 2011
Lines·Words
11·54
Notes

if my woman was a fire

she'd burn out before i wake

and be replaced by packs of whiskey

cigarettes and outer space

then somebody moves

and everything you thought you had has gone to ****

broadripple is burning.

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