3/5

Three out of fives days
pre-op to post eviction
and my mind’s in Outerspace
with spatial perceptions erased
senses ablaze as I write
blunt lines in blank space

Resume, repeat, chase
for all the love we evade
counterparts of the New Age
we remember to lovingly face
with entrapment par the course
for the upcoming case

shit, at least it’s not criminal
the High Priestess has spoken
the whole thing was unintentional
a light body committee with thoughts
so original; Baby
it’s consensual

“can you help me rhyme from there?”
creativity bleeding rhythm in Open Air
and I’m riding atop broken wings
fleeting, fragile things
as the passersby
take the backroads of their fears

we’re purging these mirrors
as they openly stare
we may not have a lot
but we have 3/5 days
“I swear”

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