just dry logs to fuel poetry that no one will read,
writing my will in the form of a free verse tragedy,
shooting up in the hall, veins flood with love,
and again i'm high above a cloud
pretending i'm weightless...
untouchable.
and again i'm thrown back down,
vomited up, stale and staggering,
heart burn, and tooth ache,
and a talentless void in my gut.
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