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I leave my skin
all ways I go
a paper trail behind me
it falls from me

bundles on doorsteps
secrets in landfill

I shed it
in the winter & summer
spring & autumn alike
sinew begins to show

alone in the street
in the house
in the darkness
my own printing press
spits papers of my life

& less & less my body

when I am nothing
but bone
I will have found a home.

Written by Amalasuntha (hiatus)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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