Rogue wave


Rapscallions
Are no better than
Regular scallions

auto stocks
power locks
you caught me
dismantling my soul

And sat there
waiting

I find myself
Nowhere
All
At once

wondering how words
Come apart
Like nomadic
Gestures
to the door

It’s not that I’m
No good
At hints
Anymore
It’s just that
Blunt force trauma
Becomes her

Muted
autumn
Colors
don’t exist
for a reason

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