Literature Class

She stares at me,
but I choose the walls:
The cold, featureless walls
that expect nothing
and can take nothing.

Maybe just a little skin
from my knuckles.
Nothing that I need
or that I can't retrieve.


I am learning a craft
that everything is part of:
Indecency, lust and bruises
Allies, enemies and alcohol
Music, literature and madness.

It is all essential
to the process.

As is everything else

that I haven't found


The End

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