the mind's generous follies.
poetry and peace.
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Wednesday, September 12, 2012
muddy
i don't belong here and i am well-aware
of that but still you force it
down a swollen throat like
knives i can't hope to abate,
fighting the death of me. i don't want your pity
but i do want a chance in your muddy eyes
to be more than obligatory waste.
07.2011
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