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I awaken and the house looks dirty
filthy with remnants
and memories
words that should have never come to being
Perhaps there are ghosts
that became one too many
confessing endearments when there should have been none
Why evaporate the truths of yesterdays
when to do so dissolves the human part of life
Rather it is better to have them eat you
so you may become their waste
My fists could never be tight enough
and my lips often control me
as I walk behind them
trying to hide as they spit me
out into bits on the pavement
where my feet step as I go on
Though there will always be an end to sidewalks
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