spin me around again
and rub my eyes
this can't be happening
when busy streets
a mess with people
would stop to hold
their heads heavy
oily marks appear on walls
where pleasure moments hung before
the takeover
the sweeping insensitivity
of this still life
hide and seek
trains and sewing machines
blood and tears
they were here first
ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
mid-sweet talk
newspaper words cut-out
speak no feeling
no I don't believe you
you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
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