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Fake ID

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I gave time a description.
She identified my body.
I am dead to her.
Yeah, she made this what I wanted for so long:
On our clocks and ticks and bars of slipping sleep

I thought myself as pure as the father,
I thought myself as pure as my next tick,
I thought myself a product of my youthful sleep
And all of her dreamy adjudications

And still the rate felt slow,
And the moments felt so taciturn

In fact,
I instantly moved to call in the narrative my blocking compression.
She identified my body.
I am dead to her.





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Meredith M. said...
Sept. 30, 2009 at 11:20 pm
why has no one commented on this?? i think its really deep and amazing. you are a great writer. really :)
 
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