FETCH ME DEE DEE HAREM
Let me see you bring her in; just
try. I can't forget her. The steel
cloth here with which I wash my
face makes me ache and hurt, and
nothing worse than that. Except
perhaps that absence that's back.
-
I can't remember when it was last
I ate an egg. A cooked one, all
wet and sloppy upon a dish, to
be sopped up with some gruesome
wad of bread like diners make.
I've just been feeling too lame to
eat; not eggs, not piece of cake!
-
This homefront hurts, and none
of the leaves are yet out - all is
bare, and the Wintry eyes I see
with are sore and tired, and will
not share my anguish or my pain
with any other. I ache alone, I
guess. It's all the same.
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