ice arrows make painful air
cutting through my layers of thin summer clothing
i be outspoken
words begin to come
drifting like ghosts back through thin membranes of skin
memories
slipping on muddy tracks
its a lonely existence
how i wish i had a little bubble of humanity
to shield me from this great outdoors
word gets out that you're a faker
but everything i say
is only true for the five seconds after it falls out
and in that time dearly beloved
we will have to endure
the proliferation of some bullshit geometry
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