uninspired and quick
I see you in your castle
of flesh, loving hands holding
bones and false hope
of self convincing
your castle of sinew
blood wet mortar
squared off thoughts
into bricks and bracken filled
moat of syrupy stretched truth
nature calls to you
from seeping moonlight
through myriad cracks
letting in
whispering winds
your smile
is the saddest picture
(unrelated frog)
This is about poop, isn’t it?
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