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Archive for August, 2017

Frustration is a pitch black road curving down
toward shit one wouldn’t normally do.
It isn’t the same brand of intent. Like the mind
still makes the decision but the body,
these shaking hands, are someone else’s.

Comfort is a road covered in daylight, blowing
past kindnesses one would normally show but didn’t.
The intent here is also unique. Who can
blame a heart for burrowing itself so deeply into love
that it forgets about everything else?

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