Bad Thoughts

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I dragged fatigue through rivers we made,
it was tears, black tears and fetid tears.

It was gross out at night, all the time
constantly bearing blear in lumps.

Galvanized (not) instead etherized.
Greasy limp and waddling.

Following the exits to the spare room
of my life… all mess.

Weekend glowering.
You a quivering wreck.

-r. miller

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