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Tired rants
Category: Writing and Poetry
the shadows on my ceiling are more sociable than the people who love me, for they’re not afraid to touch me I wish I could cling to something like the cigarette smoke clings to my clothes in the hamper and the residue of melted candy on childhood dressers Blood and gore don’t bother me on tv but when I see my own I can’t breathe—maybe it’s because I have to acknowledge that everything isn’t a dre... » Continue Reading