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18 October 2005 @ 01:34 pm
This, my bandaged ear  
I am searching for being in existence, scars
and bruises slashed into my pallid pallored
cheeks, years of acid and smog clinging to
jagged costal hillsides. These things I feel;

these things I am. Aloft the socially elite and
below the muggers in the park. My soul has
been barred from your view, and healing me
won’t cure it. Take off my shabby overcoat
and my dingy sweater, let my dignity fall
to the floor. Stroke and blend me into your
landscape, along with your old companions.

I’ll sit down on the green grass, and sow
myself a dress of reeds; although they
always made me itch. I am this bandaged
ear and the soul that has lost it. Seas beyond
these piercing eyes, carried on haunted ships.

I never belonged, here or there; my colors
wouldn’t allow it; yellows and goldenrod, against
my shade of blue-grey. I am the ether, the cyanide
and arsenic; against a shade, lighter than snow.
 
 
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