Dejected, I come home late
with the weight of the night in tow
and even the words are put against me.
The moon turns its back on me,
while
lovers eager to find a shelter looking for the magic
secret hidden in the windows
a hotel room.
disheveled, my soul wanders
knocked out by
dawn and the sun burn wounds. Lose
Atleti, but it is not news
and waves spread out and move everything clutter creep
Surf
Monday.
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