its not the empty space,
but what's left in it

if things were up to me
there would be nothing;

help me with the fury;



your color is that quiet fern
there are the animals you used to snuggle,
also a tornado shimmying ahead



when they talk about death they
dont mention how confused a fellow is,
how something tragic happens
and you feel like you should put on baggy pants
and eat an apple slice but not a donut






fold up and run with the weirdos


























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