Black Hole
J
James McLain
0
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If I slide by you, will you help me stop?
I stretch my arms, nails bleed by walls, bloody.
I look, you see me go by, is your face blank like mine?
I have No, understanding of water, stagnant multiplied
in and unto it's self, on top, scrapping a bottom blind.
I can only hope she will, once more try.
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