The mind is going into on an open ended strike
The heart in solitary cell
The body has declared civil disobedience with intent to spread anarchy
More more more more
Some more and more and more and some more more.
Help. I don’t know the way back.
Repeat until perfection,
Then learn to forget
My head is a graveyard of dead poems
The weight of which gives me backaches
And a sour taste on my tongue
Everyone entertains a hideous crime, at some point, in the privacy of our despairs
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