• the day is black with soot and the aching of my hear. i do not belong in this place. i am not meant for this world. i am streetlamp corner bum (wearing converse and thrift-store dime clothes) who sees the stars as white stains on some other lover's lace. and i weep for wanting to sing in a world that can't hear my key. wouldn't hurt so much to belong if i didn't think your fingers felt so good in mine - like ocean salt in summer wind on the beach where i sleep.

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