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From the west
the sky changes from (filthy) yellow to (antiseptic) blue (littered with rose-colored crumpled Kleenex clouds, their dark bellies half hidden, facing away from solid ground, upturned like poisoned fish) some hospital floor of the dying
the death of the day
hand in hand with death of the
self, to be reviewed
the sick phoenix sky
consumed with an actor’s woes
bites the glass pill tonight
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