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i may be a little overgrown
i die with a deep breath:
soft / with oxygen, limp / with
meaning. & i am / licking my
wounds / in front of the open window; /
just one stripe of the
moon / & the bedroom blooms
through the curtain. time grows
like ivy, gnaws through the threads
of this floorstorm on the carpet, &
my eyes grow lead-heavy / but the ghosts
of these leaves
won't leave me
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