-
I’ve been addicted
to words since...
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Men sent back to Mars
women vamoose to Venus...
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No matter how much I sleep,
I can't catch up...
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In the beginning
you gathered the wood...
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I often think of myself as a machine.
My miles of veins, tendons and sticky bits...
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persuading needles
from a dwindling haystack...
-
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Nights are no longer
synonymous with...
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Cool wind blowing through my hair
Smells of earth and sweat...
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I followed the others
to the Women’s Baths...
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Day
after day...
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My name, it is not Jack,
And I do not have a spring...
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Stay
(4)
5 by Mortal Utopia
all I have left
in place...