And each time the hand retracts
I can better remember the feeling
And posting signs outside the door
Leaves me with wanted reminders
(Of a life well lived,
loved,)
And the pen marks and key stokes
And the ink blots and photographs
Are all these reduplicated moments
Movements on the tides toward afterlife
And for a moment there is stillness
Moving backwards to stall time
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Desperate, Bloodthirsty, ect.
