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                                                                                         it's time to be leaving again
                                                                                         no more delay



if I were to follow
the example of those who have inspired me:

Bob Dylan and Sage Francis showed me that
it's okay to feel sorry for myself by and by
so long as I keep moving


                                    (despite the fact that I feel like I've been racking up
                                     a body count
                                     of the living dead,
                                     it's all in my head)


                                                                                                                                         I've already long since perfected the art of disappointment, Ash
                                                                                                                                         it's a natural talent
                                                                                                                                         coming to terms with myself, now that--
                                                                                                                                         that requires a kind of finesse,
                                                                                                                                         and a lot of practice


I will continue to try to find the others
who love as I love
                                     despite the suspicions,
that I'll just be finding the same people over and over again
unto eternity


                                                                                         the house of mirrors
                                                                                         gives no exit


it's not always easy for me to find inspiration,
it can take a lot for me to be adventurous but
it doesn't take much for me to be survival
and I'm finding my way towards a more clear survival

with or without influence, but
Dylan and Sage would certainly agree that
you should never idolize anyone, but this is from me:
don't take life advice from anyone except
the people who can see right through you


                                     I'm starting to see a path develop before me
                                     that muddles nobility and vice

                                                                 one foot in,
                                                                                     one foot out
                                                                    devil in my ear,
                                                                                            angel in my spine

                                     with eyes on those pretty horizons, sure, but
                                     relishing in the fact that such horizons are still several steps in front of me
                                                                        (so that they may keep such prettiness, for now)

To break the inevitable fall
of tears against tin roof cheeks
I am practicing the art of
disappointment
; wearing her
heavy shawls on raw shoulders,
getting accustomed to the sting.

In cafes, I order a slice of
chocolate cake, sit myself in
front of it. We stare at each
other awkwardly until I leave,
not a single crumb out of place

Painstakingly do I curl my hair,
paint my lips, ink my eyelids with
the precision of an alcoholic's
passive-aggressive sneer. I buy
new clothes that curl around my
body like a cat, and, when I am
finally beautiful,
retire to bed.

I buy a bottle of merlot,
drink a single glass. Read books
until the last five pages and
set them down. Draw a hot bath,
set candles alight, and shiver into
the porcelain four hours too late.

I masturbate in raucous abandon,
stop before the reverberations
begin their torrid clench on my resolve.
This is how I love.

One hand on the door,
the other holding fast to a safety chord.

One eye on the prize,
the other glued to petty horizons;
and the full sense of being
only half awake.

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