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1                                                                    4 she offers me,                                             a spot of dust she raises me                                              under the couch, on platitudes and warm bread                I know it’s in return for my devotion                         there she loves me like the boats                       today, I start spring-cleaning, she keeps out on the ocean                      (this alone she loves me to be molded,                      should receive not to be unfolded                                     more recognition than it will)                                                                       I pull out the couch she bore me bones                                     the vacuum doesn’t quite the lacrimal bone                                       reach the dust lying the breastbone                                            on unused carpet, all the cervical vertebrae                          the head I use them to simulate                              keeps hitting the wall her expectations                                        unproductive                                                                      I put the furniture back 2                                                                   in place I have names,                                             no one will see the lack I wear them like badges                           of progress inspired by something not quite earned yet                                                   5                                                                      while lucid dreaming I assigned                                                   constellations were on each name                                                  my skin a compartment                                          and freckles in of me                                                           the night sky If I name them maybe they will become                                       pollution drowned out real, not just necessary                             two thirds                                                                      even if most imploded                                                                      before they were seen 3                                                                   6 with enough necessity                             were it not for shadows anyone can tell a lie                                  I would surely learn to                                                                      hate the light
0
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
on deception (vignettes)
1                                                                    4 she offers me,                                             a spot of dust she raises me                                              under the couch, on platitudes and warm bread                I know it’s in return for my devotion                         there she loves me like the boats                       today, I start spring-cleaning, she keeps out on the ocean                      (this alone she loves me to be molded,                      should receive not to be unfolded                                     more recognition than it will)                                                                       I pull out the couch she bore me bones                                     the vacuum doesn’t quite the lacrimal bone                                       reach the dust lying the breastbone                                            on unused carpet, all the cervical vertebrae                          the head I use them to simulate                              keeps hitting the wall her expectations                                        unproductive                                                                      I put the furniture back 2                                                                   in place I have names,                                             no one will see the lack I wear them like badges                           of progress inspired by something not quite earned yet                                                   5                                                                      while lucid dreaming I assigned                                                   constellations were on each name                                                  my skin a compartment                                          and freckles in of me                                                           the night sky If I name them maybe they will become                                       pollution drowned out real, not just necessary                             two thirds                                                                      even if most imploded                                                                      before they were seen 3                                                                   6 with enough necessity                             were it not for shadows anyone can tell a lie                                  I would surely learn to                                                                      hate the light
luke-gagnon
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American
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
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