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A word, self-righteous angel
If you write the Anthology of You
There are consequences
In essence
It’s time to drink down the medicine:
If you play with Ouija
Don’t complain about the smell of dead people

I had a cousin*.
She’s not herself
Mainly because she’s dead
And her body has been reduced to dirty powder puffs.

I am reminded here and again
That grammar is just grammar.
It’s only personal when a subject crosses the boundary between what is and what was.

*my cousin committed suicide recently

It’s not that I think the grass is greener on the other side…only that I’m pissed there’s grass on the other side.

SOB with me

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