2056
6.229
17.viii.25
a lovely pained corner
the mind
flit of here
heart and
soul crammed in
mere
scribble
cage after
cage for a body
say beauty
and you
trip the wire
there are a
number of colours yet to name
a kind of
chattering mist
a daytell
of old
assumptions
sudden
winter sun yet morning
hear the
roof stretching over
in the
time before all was decided
was murder
lust made
us
so much
unavoidable
yet we’re here
to decide
imagine
from scratch
you can’t
make the
mind blank
survive any
self
guess and
guess again
you see
how night and day were skins
we hid in
this low hut here
it was
weather
blank to
think I begin
I am
writing into the sky
I’d never
call it a prayer
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