the shell crepe earthquaked
lists in tennis shoes
a lipstick 'to die for' a summer dress
a fish used as a weapon
wandering, blank, destroyed
"everything bundled for winter,
the sheep, the sand"
in the place I escape to
my shirt becoming useless and fragile
you aren't even in my brain
there's just a picture of you its pretty cute
why do I always want to kneel
why do I always want to leave the last line blank
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