These residences are just baseboards and street signs
Without conversation about common interests.
Our spines are torches and our skulls are on fire.
But I bruise in the spotlight.
The minutes spent, making ghost sounds, keep me up for
I'm less relevant when the words resist and I'm strapped
To the backseat.
For a list of reason beyond my control, I can't stay.
But this place on tape keeps me away, like a Roman
Empire.
I'm on holiday from my hometown.

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