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Mr Ree Mar 2017
wys
what you sayin

'how you feelin, healthy?'
reluctantly
i now dote a burnt black box
lost & loose, it rattles

cry on my altar
for a scarlet word’s fate is worse
librate, I alone
stout battle
smoke chasers
the roaring drums beat
and mute marvel me

how’s your schedule sugar
are you busy?
is your skin still the softest clean that seldom sin?
are your arms still the warmest home i ever lived in

did i hurt you,
does it ring
cause **** I’m always feeling sorry
forever turning beds
pillows stuffed with plastic worries
red tears on a swollen head

i hid fists in love letters
i snapped bridges that we'd crossed together

but then she's trust and talking
and I’m sorry from mister mystery

— The End —