so now i see him winding down
from the epiphany and the ecstasy
and it's too much of a blur, but i think he
hit something, or someone, and i know
it just felt so good.
see, that's a problem with poetry -
it's not as hard hitting or rambunctious
as her, or him, or the marionettes
that give you your joy because they're
so. damn. easy.
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