Poetica Spontenaium 5.22.03
In a secret identity
crawling into a skein
of flesh and bones, cotton
nothing more
Walking limpless steps
Without neonic outerspace scars
Shoving a shoulder against
An ordinary door
No ultranemisis
No stoic challenges
No time traveling convoluted plotlines
Or epic xenophobic or psycho sanctual war
A simple day
An ordinary breath
A reminder of
My inner core
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