One Loop Short of a Shoelace
the new shirt with an unironed crease
the slice of thorn against thumb
ear against the bass speaker
whispering at the shadows
hoping something appears
My business is are
Hold the lunar for a tic
my mad has never been ness
no iota of the id
people are
strangled
if your a strangler
your faces are ugly
did you get them on loan
We of the ird
Pass me by
as you stare at the street
one of us was lucky we didn't meet
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