Trouble Wash

Everyone loses a day
on a wake of love.

Everybody weeds love to
benefit their soul –

Aloneliness and the badge
of fear —
I keep to myself to
reel on love – lack
Luster and the ruses
of time – sit-place.

Insinuation is dead in
all souls – mine destroys
the cold, cold cold rhetoric –

He can’t follow this yate
a pid did – a kid.


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