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March 5, 2018

He who wants honey
must abide the bees.
But, the bees are going—
Our glazed eyes avert.

I am the speakeasy,
I will tremble against the
amaranthine snows forever.
My brittle bones crumble, I crumble.

You will encounter one million
different people in your whole life.

As pa...

March 5, 2018

      "What do you do
with the mad you feel?"
Mister Rogers asked

I split cinders in fists
Grimace at my mental pulchritude
I wear the arms of my father, thin skin, heavy veins

I chew my inner lips
Until they're marred and gored
Their metronomic quivers conspir...

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