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Measure me in metered lines, in one decisive stare,
the time it takes to get from here to there.
My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I got for free;
I'm unconsoled, I'm lonely.
I am so much better than I used to be.
Terrified of telephones and shopping mall,
and knives, and drowning in the pools of over lives.
Rely a bit to heavily on alcohol and irony.
Get clobbered on by courtesy, in love with love, and lousy poetry.
And I'm leaning on a broken fence between Past and Present tense.
And I'm losing all these stupid games that I swore I'd never play.
And it almost feels okay.
Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty.
Armed with every previous failure, and amateur cartography,
I breathe in deep before I spread these maps out on my bedroom floor.
Leaving. Wave goodbye.
Losing, but I'll try, with the last ways left, to remember.
Sing my imperfect offering.
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