As it turns out, I don't mind 

having poetry as the one and only salvation

when I'm not at MacDonald's 

or chatting with ChatGPT.

It turns out I've settled in this rural town,

mural frown upon my brow;

When one plants wallseeds, what else to expect?!

Graffiti falls 

to the core, always to the center.

I'd decorate it with ivy. 

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