what late forgotten nights to emptiness has given
and now November morning will be taken asunder
the shovel stained with dirt in the hours of belonging
dug into the undiscovered of a life, a pest, a plague
Like A Ghost In Daylight
On An Overcrowded Street
He Wishes
To Be Something He Is Not.
Lie A Shadow At Midnight
That Originate In Air
He Wishes To Release...
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