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2021-01-21, epitaph

2021-01-21, epitaph

mind is a sleeper cell | undermined
overwhelmed by targets | domestically
intoxicated

if bridegrooms sedate | drums
pounding penny pinching | pockets
of graveyards fortune

i might sleep | without fail
or fear of finding lips | hovered
over mine

disappeared in smokeless | cinders
of clouded appellation


thought
exhaustion is a beggar whose signs never meet an open eye.

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