VANISHING SUN

I. I came to the pond today This place is a pill capsule brimming with Platonic forms and the sun is a grimy mirror streaked white, an old MasterCard, my notebook the cut-up small section of a bright pink bendy straw. Some days I come here to stay away from the allure of razors, the perfection of their edges. Be silent now, wrists. II. I want to burn myself down again and you are going to help me do it. Set me alight, you flint, you spark, you kindling. Our twilight sky is a fox tail. Come, let us...

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