Red Rot

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death from above, 2006

my real mother, white faced and vulnerable, knows everything.

and she is driving across the key bridge, straight down M st. to pick me up on the narrow block of L and carry me out of here

because i dont want to be here and i need blankets off the couch and people who love me and stationary dependency.

i am all grown up with no one looking out for me.

thats how i slipped through the cracks before god, and im not sure im that much better at picking up the pieces second-time around.

1:01 p.m. - 2006-03-17

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