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Click herestanding at north window
open book shared between hands
not fists
fingers curled in confusion, slight pain
holds a book of poetry
a Code book
holding the problems usual to me
to see and feel the words as meant,
or do I pinch for my own pleasure
extract without even trying
seeing my own reflection
in rainbow bubbles in a polluted stream
meant for me, my ego, my
narcissistic cannibalistic self respect,
hungry for Oxalis
I have felt the same way so many times, I now choose to delegate emotions as I see fit to other parts of me ...shh, dont tell them ;)