23.11.10

Some thoughts from the backjack of November.

As I start digging deeper,
To the holy land of earth,
The heaven of souls.
The ground starts to fall.
The flowing, of dirt,
The falling, of sweat,
The blowing of heart.

I don't have a heart.
It's here no longer.
Safer and better.

This place don't need hearts.
Waves are all it got,
Lining in the wind.



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