What a waste. Without a taste,

stretching out for help, but found

none in suns on yellow days,

frowning drowning pastel clown.

Nothing’s sweat in salty tears,

only smeared & only itchy

make up made up of those years—

dark, & yet they still bewitch me.

Dump you down my creaky drain,

please remind me of the rain—

Please! I promise to behave…

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