making up dog-old schemata in my head
I stumble through sprayed waste,
visibly dampening,
and building functioning turning burning,
forming shaping the words that are hidden
coded manifesto out of drifts and shifts
of a world asleep, lost without
i step, although nothing is let out
I step careful, indifference cloaks my opinion
my reaching arms guard infinity
braces at the edges, steadies the barricades
clouds form deep tunnels,
trees line in a crowd;
all of their roots coalesce
so that one tip-top perfect
will reach the others
it's going to rain soon.
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