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I have lived eons in twenty minutes, felt the creaking of my bones growing, growing, growing weary, crumbling to gritty dust only to be born again. To live, die, serve behind this counter.
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Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 3:40 PM UTC
Poems for Liminal Places: Part One
I have lived eons in twenty minutes, felt the creaking of my bones growing, growing, growing weary, crumbling to gritty dust only to be born again. To live, die, serve behind this counter.
campbell-pennington
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Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 3:40 PM UTC
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