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Wonder Moon

April 28, 2017

I have two maps of the galaxy,

one mine, one yours.

Transposed,

they collapse

into one giant brain,

a unified district

of thought, feeling,

but you won’t look

no, you won’t listen,

too busy running laps

around the block,

fighting off your urge

to explode into a million

pieces I’ve wiped off

my skin before,

why delay

the inevitable

collapse of sobriety?

I gather my needle,

I gather my slightest sinew,

lay our two star maps

down to rest,

one on top the other,

stars colliding,

a bone nest

numskull planet

some call a mess,

but if altered

just right,

 

a wonder moon

we can drape

over any occasion,

its fluffy mass

tastier

than the original

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From → Bedtime stories

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