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moth
Like the serenity of asphalt, Timoth was a joke he couldn't stop playing on himself.
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Thursday, January 13, 2011
Hymn to grazed shins
--
To always be shocked
with tears melting down a frozen jaw
To lean on the corner of annihilation
To remember epiphany lies at the heart
of a crushing banality
To lie.
To stay silent.
To speak the truth.
(apologies to Entombed)
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