Empty Oceans
Word As a Virus
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its pulling apart at the seams. the openness of the sky. the nakedness of the trees.
it is the reality i can not face with eyes open. drenched in this chemical.
a process that has become my burning left arm.
i see the crosses. they comfort me.
i see the crosses...
when syringes tease me and leave their mark. trails that i didnt want. but somehow i am stuck with them.
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