Do you feel born again when you get fucked up?
What do you breathe in? What gives you freedom?
What do you do to yourself to feel forgiven?
Do you live your life in competition?
Or on the excess of your family tree.
I cut off a branch and pulled off the leaves.
It was beautiful bare, you rest in ecstasy
but you will be aching when you wake up
Your day will be wasted soon enough
There are not enough stars to make you small enough.
The things that you dream irritate me.
The street lights hum a song that makes you anxious
I am well but you can stop that
Body heat, wind-breaker pockets
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