Sunday, August 21, 2016


There are always going to
be people reading this wrong,
or that, the way they want. 
Putting words in my mouth, 
calling me out, finding my
meanings like a finding of
nettlesome death. I'm not
that kind, and I'll never be.
These things do not exist,
even if you insist you see.
My time is a silent figment,
a place and a thing to do.
I'd not mind some company.
You come too!

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