barking dogs protest
and rockets blast in the sky
who's the real dumb ass?
At night we forget
the world is burning outside
love is a cool spring
we ride bicycles
our shadows run alongside
kissing your face, dear..
Ideas neatly folded in six inch squares or lying on the grimy floor covered in beer mud and regret.. poetry that inspires a dull throbbing pain in the center of the forehead. circular reasoning and deep insight. My only contact with the outside world. a panopticon.
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