Nov 3, 2014

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                             05.03.06.sun ap
2009



I could be better
or more soggy,
greater or milder
and perhaps even lower,
but not you-and what hurts you-
we're easy to forget

relentlessly pounding
like a train in the distance
-there I put too little coal;
because my hands do not keep anything.
I didn’t just deceive myself
-because you're not me.

when I know that you look in the mirror
and see me, hungry and ragged,
abandoned on the way between home and work;

probably that’s why it failed,
just some bits are left pure, -

you had enough of the gray face.

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