did the dishes, now I can die
bought a watermelon big as a pony.
I don't own a motorcycle. or a lawnmower.
a hula hoop. a pickup truck.
a house. or a squirt gun.
jeez this is hard. walking uphill
arms full, objects in sharp piles
everything with its own name, own use
own rules. it slips from my grip, falls
on my bare feet, hooray for everything
I’ll fail. remember. you'll fail.
big funeral, renegade clouds
I’ve lived long enough
in peach flavored hell.
how about you?
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A lonely but hopeful series of characters awaiting some attention:
by Juan Zapata Jr
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