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Watt He thought he was gay but just lacked the experience To take it to the next movement tooo never stop The night for him seemed a triangle of twigs geometric branches active with wind Broken He struggled on the seventh story being many months since he had gone past just the second His breath hard trembling His thoughts excuses Anything for a cigarette He thought he needed a mother or that he panicked inside others eyes seeing only those where he came from The day had always died the same the sun the same symbol He thought time was only true in tears or that he sobbed from visions of the thigh It wasn’t smooth and that it looked good or that he could feel it Being his fingers across a stick and tooo know what it shaped And he A view towards the ocean Still he And panicking His thought controlling his sight to just an arm just a leg the knee Night was even stark to seven stories calm with nicotine He thought |
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