III

2006-01-01 3:05 p.m.

something here, in the addresses we have held
in identities kept long secret, in trying to impress
my form upon the sheets, huddled masses, and the way
my lip has bruised in curving sentences, from where my teeth sat a long night's watch

over my broken body.

don't push me to, don't push me to

these limits.

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