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Over this ominous thing, stumbling
Feeling its pulls
Strangled and taught
I pray to god?
About this karmically translucent string
Rushing the clock
Never knowing when is too early
Until it’s impossibly late
Baby blew.
The wind carries and will continue to,
indefinitely until hues unrecognizable
pass you by. You don’t bat an eye.
Chest pings, our Morse code transcending
The distance placed, and
never closed.
Preferring the perpendicular to the parallel?
Just you,
Baby’s blue.
It was never up to me, though. Never got a chance.
You arrive
As I exit
I now realize what you felt
Too late
The lost chance not fault of my own
Nary an invite
What could be
Or would’ve been
**** it
Wailing!
Not the night.
Sunshine never brighter, refusing to dim;
where are you to be found?

Swept away by the current too far!
Disgruntled over the butterscotch car.
Indefinitely wondering how you are;
do you ever see the beam?
The sun set a long, long time ago - yet my eyes are burning
And won’t
Think or write;
Find the lining, copper search collapse.
Death
We witnessed together.
Foreshadow, always tends to.
Unease in my chest
Blessed to feel, everything always.
Growing
Tired of this painful polarity.
A scab shall be buried
Unrelated reminder of SoundCloud dude rapping some spoken word type “don’t be a scab” song somehow implying that picking at yourself is bad - which in retrospect holds merit, but was poorly portrayed I fear. His DJ seemed fun tho she be bouncy
All along.
The driver never questioned if the windshield was worthy of being clean or *****.
He just scrubbed the **** off and left the dirt water in the tub.
My mother once told me people **** in those.
Your goal isn’t to determine why XYZ, but *what* can be done to remove whatever is in the way from Z. I want there to be something after Z…
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