your pretty mouth is a flesh capped period piece
relics of an underground religious experience
pushed away by ink and flames
that’s when they killed the black of your heart
what’s it like to breathe with half a lung
near collapse, appreciated like a plane crash
where do you keep your guns asked several children
who was going to teach them after I showed them
white places in our mind and green spaces help
the anxiety of public parks
dominating democracy as I round the sidewalk to get to
the corner
a tiny slip of a line polished off as a train track
metal that grows faster than the green below it



One thought on “suffer

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