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(day 76)
The Distant Future
azuresorrow

there's nothing for it tonight
neither hot tea of my favorite kind nor encouraging words from internet friends
nor the single beer i drank alone at the old bar with its dim light and stale smells
nor the walk in the brisk october night
nor any amount of self consolation
can lull the hurt tonight, the hurt who will not be silenced
who will not be satisfied and who, in his disquiet,
swells and boils and becomes a hairy and disgruntled beast
of yellow eyes and jagged teeth
gobbles me up whole and spits out the bones
for the dogs to bury in the snow


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