Self fulfilling prophesy (Remove filter)
and for all the black earth in my nails
of which bed have I finally earned sleep?
milling and tumbling endlessly
scraping and planting
in flesh-tolled toil
machete-pacing a tract in the floor
until it becomes a fissure
and that animal is no more.
smoothed out by life's sandy trials
a shape named me
whittled an atom at a time
to finally fit the slot and turn
with a we...
Thursday 16th April 2020 1:51 pm
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