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this is a poem about the difficulty of becoming. i wrote it while driving home from therapy.
out-of-sync wet dream;
see what i mean?
granular - some say flyrod,
others nothing. all for it.
how do you scratch the itch?
please hold fast(as it runs)as it runs
toward belly-up witchcraft,
like yesterday's news.
flawless groan, itself a stray.
what's in it for me, anyhow?
it's intentional. it must be.
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