look to the east, little one

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i left a piece behind, i think,

of something suitable for

reducing myself to nothingness


these bare-boned hands tired out

and my patience wore thin

when the moon spun asunder


there you stand and here i

remain against all odds and

clumsy forays of the adventure


prayers prayed in bathroom stalls

and pieces of wallpaper give me

nothing but mementos of your loss

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