Cannot Draw

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I have no desire
to map out the sketches
of my life.
I want to tear paper
and snap pencils
and jam brushes past
walls that haven’t
rebuilt themselves
even if they should’ve.
I can’t speak my words
touch the flames
or feel the clouds between
my aches.
I wish to chase the still life
but they wash away in rain
under heavy washes
and burning chemistry.
I cannot draw.





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