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punks n queers n writers n artist in diff cities on easternmost coasts
places where I'll bring the fabric and need to wear the coat
places I imagine to be so full without space for me
so I become a black spot on the pavement
a stain without origin
Craigslist is inevitable
searches with images only
results in all caps
"I'm a 29-year old male..."
I'd prefer they began, I'm lonely but trying
not pity or anything
just an understanding "ahhhh"
or "maybe we could support the walls, the furniture, turn fridges into bookshelves and bookshelves into pantries."
tired of this rhetoric. of the fears I don't have being added to the ones I do. reality is mocking me and I really don't appreciate it. in my dream things were going so well.
things were going so well
things aren't going so well
except the streamline drip of my bathtub faucet
and the immediate follow-up
how dirty am I?
so I am dirty / I am clean / and I can't hold on to / anything
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