Old poems like worn shoes small and torn

Flap rubber and canvas on the concrete spent
You stride as ballet holding the bear warm
Close below your ribs and bunny ears on
Tattered sleeves pass cold pillars hold the sky
Echos whistling through your headphones
Skip in your step the bright lights in the dark
Shadows in the day slap the fuzz awake some
Shinflesh in the gravel I wish I could lay these
Lips on your lids and breathe the feeling thru
Your teeth as it fizzes my veins as it touches
These fingers but it lands off hides beneath a
Tongue burrows in the wax and whine we
Wear our old badges that remember death worse

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