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The soles are falling off my shoes telling me miles are a season and my skin will be shed if I just keep walking. A cicada is clinging to the bed sheets Shivering out of a foggy film I rise and wrap myself in photographs for warmth. I had dreamt you were the same person in a few endless bodies I have been seeking you since your inception in my mind You ruthless parasite. You burrow in me for 10 years and erupt from the cracked ground when it finally rains. You escape for a short day Short life, long sleep We die happy.
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Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Life Cycle
The soles are falling off my shoes telling me miles are a season and my skin will be shed if I just keep walking. A cicada is clinging to the bed sheets Shivering out of a foggy film I rise and wrap myself in photographs for warmth. I had dreamt you were the same person in a few endless bodies I have been seeking you since your inception in my mind You ruthless parasite. You burrow in me for 10 years and erupt from the cracked ground when it finally rains. You escape for a short day Short life, long sleep We die happy.
Written by
Minneapolis
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
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