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In Last Ditch Effort

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  • In Last Ditch Effort

    I make noise and pretend it's music.
    Folders i misplaced along the way
    They contain the content --
    I leave parts of myself, tonight.
    I already feel the fire touch me.

    We would wish to force the change.

    Humbled in the singular viewpoint--

    Maybe it is all nonsense, and bullshit? These laments,

    I am caught in whiteness so I pale
    I can take on the shape myself:

    All the crimes I'm guilty of staining me and my hands.

    The grey jacket i wear
    Over my feelings ... right before bed, in a last ditch effort

    to make sense of the days ...

    knocked around the room ...

    meditate upon small space

    and why i feel so much. It doesn't mean

    everything.

    only
    a lot.
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