needed to
write
what my mind
couldn’t
face,
on a day so sunken
and devoid of
grace,
thus i throw up my
hands in the
hopes you
relate
and purge
such
before my word
bubbles
deflate.
my dime a dozen
bird song,
you gong,
and
move on-
i trill
sonnet,
you vomit,
i rescue
hair-
whisperin’
haiku..
you gag,
do i
inspire..
desire me
too?

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