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Aug 15

I Am Not Here

by Wayne Mason

Meditative
beast gnawing
the be bop plasticity
smiling through the
orgasms with
detachment and
re-invention

Confusion had
slowly inadvertently
gone miles back
railing skies of
stale gray longing
and paradox

Ecstasy comes
with utter misery
infinitely plastic
disposable highways
and sad realization

That I am not here

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