used to be
time was
backintheday
i would
live and die
in jeans
my uniform
and toolbelt
32 x 32
i would map
out the last
n i g h t s
black holes
in theirrips
and their
b a r b e d
wire tears
in theirdirt
in their mud
and dawnsdew
in the chips
of paint and
c r a c k ed
h e a dlight
p l a s t ic
in theirsick
and their
b l o o d
bean juice
andhorsehair
ontheirknees
with c s i
f o r e nsic
p r e cision
b e c a u se
it was the
m o r n ings
when i didnt
know why i
was there
it was the
the mornings
when i didnt
know what i
was doing
so id throw
myself deep
intothenight
a g a i n
d istracting
myself into
the heart
of the sun
indenimjeans
my uniform
and toolbelt
32 x 32
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