My body covered
with scars
some I chose
many I simply
survived trying
hard to
let them heal
not pick until
the blood returned
like a bad man
lightning nightmares
cutting deep
the delicate skin
of dream
Fellow wizard
do you live
by the shapes
of your nights?
Of course not
of course not!
The mirror
would never
allow it!
Triangles, rectangles
the geometry
never quite made
sense holding order
by its logical throat
never rendering
the correct amount
of perfume
to grant normal
dismissive glances
gawd
the streets render
with a crayon
made of something
worse than shit
I don't know but
that covetous feeling
comes from
so many directions
The most unexpected
human history
told in honest layers
of micro-dirt
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