Tuesday, March 25, 2014

At odds with the ending

I see the same image
like over again--my screen--
too bright--and like no-where--
I right click for the synonym,
child, this hellhole isn't word--
won't give you anything--won't
matter--won't fix the--

unfinished sentences I have
left in my wake--

I hang poems on the walls,
watch them fade in the sun--

pass them by,
write your name on the
blue stream-lines

claim them as yours

they'd be better off--

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