Waste and Its Effect on the Skin


& loose skin &

hang’d days

trip me quick

& dear hours’ offer

for girls who bid &

not sweat—

not as desired



& me &

dear hours

in the trees &

very air we breathe;

bits under weight

& days I can’t see,

now you; trapped

with motes & light—

with love, I cried




& me &

loose skin hung,

keeps writing poems

about a girl &


& meanings that go on

for days; with

eras wasted drinking

hours—as written—

hours dear, I wrote of her.


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