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July 5
238/365

Beijing

The sky, drunken bruises that do not fade
Dull endless blooms
Rain, the smell of motel keys.

A break and blue
Switches on.
Plasma.
You feel you have died
And were given no guidance
but the city is empty
And before twilight
You made it to the Future
And survived.

Beijing

The sky, drunken bruises that do not fade
Dull endless blooms
Rain, the smell of motel keys.

A break and blue
Switches on.
Plasma.
You feel you have died
And were given no guidance
but the city is empty
And before twilight
You made it to the Future
And survived.

Neil Fauerso, 32

Seattle

 
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