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back home. wouldn't have, "mama tried" tattoo'd              
under the abscess scar on my right arm, If              
certain cycles didn't arrive at the same departure.            
 
at least I knocked up the crazy bitch before I left, this
time. every around gets a bit bigger, and I am nothing
if not a drama worth writing. probably won't work out
the details, but I been to where the poets drink the big
things, and I outlasted the bastards. fuck 'em if I couldn't
record it right.

this time it is the its it. been numb for some time, tried to
play professional. clock in. earn keep. keep suitably warm
towards her boys (more than a drunken mans love have
tucked them in all this time),  the two cats who left mice
for me every morning, and the dog who tried to steal them

she, made it an unpaid labor and I love her no less, but
I love her no more. a man only has so many knuckles
that he can pay for the therapy of stone walls in, and I'm
out. we aren't the blame she wants to lay on me. we are
beautiful for trying. so hard. so often. hope she sees that

by summer, when our baby's due.
Written by lightbaron
Published
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