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As I clasp precious-ed steel
About my love’s hand warm, that truth
That truth can’t but reveal

Forgive me if I’m maudlin sounding. I’m just reminded of what’s in store for times to come. The freezer’s light’s our. I have flown a whirlwind of voodoo spinning I’m not quite well. I just pulled the load of my cleaning rags from the dryer… double lint! But dang near white. I have an entire bag of frozen fries. I’m rather fucking rich. But that’s gaslight. I put it to its paces and here I go month two! Clawing ahead. I remember once you came sans ring and other times most with the cold hard lump of choices encircled a prairie wagon train under attack.

What can I do but boil the corn pile tamale or bake brown altar-Ed right fries – dreaming of green chili? What can I do but hope monday is in fact Thursday of sacrifice not of family time but bs at a fleecing for some kind of future (must attend to trying after school attempt five) I didn’t count on!? It circles just as hard as the sad face trying to say I know what you want…no.

I just emptied the last of my then hopes into the bigger bin. It’s ok. I have no reason still to own tools chasing yet one more.

To say I don’t think upon you each day would be a lie. Yet it’s months now. I probably slowly regain me a life.

By Starman Jones

Everything and Nothing interests me. I cook read, write and even have to clean. I SHOULD NOTE: I'm 40 something.

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