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series.
an epiphany. nothing is going to matter. these faults are piercing
and I am what I study.
when I looked back up, there it was breathing in mouth wash and
wrinkles. drowning on the floor. I'm aching there on the
carpet. growing up I would whisper, i want babies. somebody
to love. drowning, dying on the lawn, again, mommy on the lawn
getting older
walking down a treeside. your arms around me. I
am too intimidated with you, don’t
like these guys, thought we’d be alone I go, but I learn
its okay. by the way, don’t worry about your skin, they won't
notice. so you laugh now at something I didn’t hear. “he asked”,
laughing, “if you would strip”
success
the cheap way out wont work, stephy. what could have possibly
hindered me. what do you mean. blame me, its enough now, why
can’t you just say sometimes we fail, and your daughter
might prove it, say it say it say it
and I’ll start smiling again
buddha
could be Buddha, but really not jesus. could sit under this big
Buddha tree. won’t heal you or tell you I offer redemption
and I can’t die for you, no, baby, you die for yourself
but I could be Buddha and you could be my devil tormenting
tormenting teaching
and teaching no easy way out now
things
like baked peach, the afterlife exists you know, like snow
and cold pink nights in high school or what you dreamt high school to be
I am understanding my role like reincarnation
birthing and birthing drifting away
from the warm stove, a boy I used
to know waving and dipping his fingers
making us
lunches in a house in heaven
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