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Maybe we forfeit too easily

I find

My nails

Clinging to the essence of it



Clean open and fresh

My skin

A hand-cranked music box

As long as I can swim

My limbs to the lullaby

Culling morose notes

Out of the wormholes

Punched still


To the air in the room

Injuries sung far

From the heart of us

Crushed and dusty


Over the equator

The sun is rising on

Some maddening dream

Plucked for you to keep

I conclude with the day-fade

Maybe you’ll remember me

Wrapped tight

Folding closed

🎨/📷 by Jesse Kanda, unknown title, unknown date

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