never leave the house
dirait-on so they say. dead crickets forever, months old in a barrel bowl, legs stiff and you run miles and miles. sure on this shining night of star made shadows round, when the woman you barely knew had cancer but you sang for her and cried, made beards of bubbles with someone who shares that with you. you you you you the nighttime has come too quickly and i've taken the week off from calling, from saying i love you because well what can you do when you tattoo an old cliche to your heart?
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