I see the paper handshakes, can they murder? suffocated by the stacks and these five wall rooms I can't relate to you or anything inside of me the root of my disconnection lies in cement
am I a victim? of procedure? define victim.
I'm always waiting to fall asleep, and you're fading away like a government affair I'm always waiting to fall asleep, but I heard that "concrete breeds apathy".
Now I see
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I have seen the look you gave to me, eyes cut to the quick of we, broke to the surface to see what was underneath (rose washed floorboards) I buried what we remembered the limbs, the wrists, the fists stood in the door, took a swing at my metaphor a copy of a copy of a copy xerox the words blot out the vowels string up a scene till all meaning devoured