More reflections

..as if the coat itself ugly at being worn bulged at the pockets torn by the wind, a felt collar felt like hard luck lead. Red buttons to ply into holes far too small as if the coat itself had grown tall as I grew into it. As if the coat itself was me…

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Interference

No one hears the noise, when the light breaks the sky no one sees, blind and we die in the night, I wonder why the day doesn’t break that way. Often I wonder where it’s leading me too and who could tell if they knew? This is the new age of war, sly and cunning,…

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