my morning thoughts flow from spinnerets
crafting half-dream-fantasies in which even pain
is preferable to the present
somewhere along the way through the desert
i paid homage to the forebears
of the cactuses and succulents i murdered with water in the midwest
and i lost the meaning of true love
i wandered into this web where i am the trapped human
i always imagined i'd be
the lost hours melted just as salvador painted them
and the sunrise and sunset grew indistinct
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