Waking again with limbs of lead
in the crumpled position of wrinkled
cloth wires wrapping around me
like an unsalted fish floundering
in a newly shaken pan, i'm coming to
last night's pseudo-cocaine binge
really got me itching the inside of my
skull this time
so bad for you.
The river is less than a quarter of a mile
from my bed and the sun is directly over
Uncle Apollo's Lower East Side apartment,
lets drown out these dried up thoughts
and talk of deep things.
Meet me at the bottom.
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