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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

17 November, 2004

Displaced Youth

My skin, hardened by
The cold snows of solitude
Tries to peer from behind
The closed shutters of displaced youth

These pores of porcelain
Have seen the waters of youth
Pour off in torrents
Under the cold heat of existence

Feel the tarnished texture
With your fingertips
Imagine a ploughed field
Ready for the next planting

It is time to shed
This withered vessel
Tottering on the lone leg
Of advanced age




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