the city
unrolls
in
my cobbled dreams
rubbing
at the
fraying edge of
my sleep
the dead
die
in
it
talking
in circles
of a nameless
you
and there is
a tree
probably
my finger
the beggar
has my eyes
in the
muted
footsteps
of headaches
long forgotten
dogyears
ago
oh
how
I long
to go away
in
the
sleepless
reveries
of
cold
concrete
time.
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