grieve then grieve then grieve then hey yes you're here you're doing it it's okay grieve then grieve
then concave soft then stuck
then frozen needs
then wasted food///hide the boxes
no no no
trachea palms that's not where you go
hey sweetie hey do you hear me
shame is not a home
grieve-move
trachea back in palms back open down
yawn burp shake
weed and jazz and sweat and ow ow ow this hurts it fucking hurts
cry shit sneeze scream
every hole's a grief hole
hey sweetie yes
what won't move
grieve that too
i'm losing it now is grieve a kind of duck is grieve a new york times recipe i can mess up is it just me am i monstrous so special uniquely where is this what is this i hate this my trachea is out of place again and i smell the weed again and new trails take me to old grieves again and old grieves are forever grieves and
shame is not a home
thank u for this, grief is indeed a duck
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