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When archaeologists pull something out of the dirt, they call it a discovery. I imagine them years from now, "discovering" skyscrapers and microwaves and styrofoam cups. I can see them with my broken body. *There's something different about these bones,* they say, something heavy. There is a message in here somewhere. There is a riddle that still twists my hands up. They said there was a place inside me where the music had gone wrong. I said, *There is no such thing as wrong music.* I've been at myself with a pick axe for a long time, trying to discover something new and groundbreaking underneath. just sediment
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
sediment
When archaeologists pull something out of the dirt, they call it a discovery. I imagine them years from now, "discovering" skyscrapers and microwaves and styrofoam cups. I can see them with my broken body. *There's something different about these bones,* they say, something heavy. There is a message in here somewhere. There is a riddle that still twists my hands up. They said there was a place inside me where the music had gone wrong. I said, *There is no such thing as wrong music.* I've been at myself with a pick axe for a long time, trying to discover something new and groundbreaking underneath. just sediment
mkpoems
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
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