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haphazard

here’s why you do it

write for the lost the fucked the insane most of us are never comfortable anywhere born into a boxer’s stance weak like fading orchids, weeping a NYC fire escape hellish summertime shifting, endlessly downing pints of IPA’s b4 winter salsa...
ice cream on white and blue ceramic plate

you know how (xviii)

man walking on desert

eulogy for Dean