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there are so many shades of green
on this scrap of grass where I sit
studying the gnats the single bee
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with the burned out, spit dampened
the flamingo decorated ashtray
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how brown the water in the sink
after I turn the key in the lock
I blow out the single candle
(o hopeful scent of cedar!)
a last desperate breath and
solitude is a masturbation of the soul
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when those knots are so tight
I think I can't breathe
there are no windows in my captivity
I am not set free by a hero
I see the beautiful intricate roots
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