when we remembered to check on her, she had made a mess of herself. shame on her.
Friday, 12 February 2016
sweat lines racing through the lanes of my body
back to the wet jungle of concrete
where monkeys hold their dogs
and yell into tiny metal boxes
i stroll as if the king of it
while the sweat drips drips drips
decomposers on the forest soil
aren't enough to clean us
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