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October 8, 2009
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Scrunched like a flexed bicep
I will not spasm.

My bones would crack
Like hard candy between molars,
My head between pillows,
I would crack,
But for the echo
(which would disturb my silent determination).
I would rather flesh was waxed from bone,
Pulled back with sheets

Than get myself up this early
To answer your stupid phone call.

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