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
The Ninth Month
Several times
per week
i find myself
thinking in terms
of her not being dead.
Then, of a sudden,
the brain and heart
eXplode,
leaving more
bloody shards, bits
, and pieces of "me'',
left to feed the flies
and them big ugly
black birds
to relish their clean'up duties
(of "business as usual")
to their own self-satisfaction,
unconcerned as to where
it all came from
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dkzk[[[[[[[[[[{2018[[[[[[[{
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