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it is one of those nights where i want to dance with the dead memories are just cards on the table that aren't mine i see a red glow on the stairs i think it might be an angel but is just this beat-nick girl smoking a cigarette she used to hang out in graveyards and read poetry now she is on my steps staring at me through sunglasses while i write my dead muse for the night flicks ashes on her jeans the dead and i get high on each other dead alive alive dead yin yang waking up is my downer i live my life at night the dead are my mourning no need for a buddhist just some dead guy whispering in my ear to let it all fucking go i never listen he died at a jimmy buffet concert i experience his death it feels like going to the dentist the beatnik girl who hung out in graveyards is shooting up in my bedroom and smiling she died peacefully in some street in san francisco the last thing she saw was the trails of an airplane in the sky she thought it was the tail of the cheshire cat her last memory was her mother reading her alice in wonderland she smells like spring rain and cigarettes when you die it is mostly fear and regret
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
April 2023
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