running something past fumes
maybe i'm not moving at all
legs churning and breath is fast
burning in my body and heart
but i stay here
suspended
hanging
tongue and soul wrapped around my throat
looking through the window but wanting to jump out of it
one foot in the grave
one foot in the door
looking at myself and seeing more of myself to lose
open my chest and my head
and pour it all out on plates and books
tell me how it tastes
tell me how it flows
a good read or a bore
help me understand.
when this heart stops ticking:
will you miss walking to the beat?
is there nothing past this smile and eyes
except empty hope for golden coasts
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