Sad Labels:
sad poetry
time chews on the constraints of its arithmetic. how we count. what we can add or subtract.
the timid algebra of strays.
we keep our purchase only by friction. betrayed by our own skin.
tucked sternly into the density of our stumbling decisions.
we wear the faces of strangers. as our time machines trundle forward. on hungry zippers.
our remains all spent. by the savage of touch.
we tell our stories in borrowed flesh. scavengers in soiled tuxedos.
we open our mouths to speak.
but there are no words left.
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