deepundergroundpoetry.com

eight trees in the yard to stare at

 
a boy bled on my bedding
it will stay there for a couple more days

everyone is driving slower than they could
and i am only here because i should be

a man is coughing behind the fence
a man is coughing down the street

and the spiders occupy so much space
they will steal my dreams tonight

i am home now
and it may not mean anything
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