Speaking in spring-day sentences with a pause where my heart should be cloudless skies threaten my protozoa mind spinning on cemented secretions mouth too dry to spit or kiss the crystalline sunshine leftover leaves and popsticle sticks hold me down.
Reason for writing:
I wrote this poem one spring day during my freshman year in
college; it was cold and clear and for some reason it seemed
like autumn again.... and it was depressing
Birth sign: Not entered
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