my names
tattered in the wind
cloth
that echoes brightly
grief comes in waves for all i've done and all
i did not do
for all the ways my life washes against the rocks
and then washes clean
for what ever makes it that
few people know me
no names
no profiles
time was speeded up like being on a treadmill
above the air
now it is slowed down infinitesimally
huge spaces
like zooming in on a map
the space between each point makes locality both
daunting and
inescapable
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