i landed on my teeth
splintered greys and the tattered cover
of a textbook, one last epitaph
to a job well tried
these angles are almost too much to bear.
the coiling frame of an empty cup
so much is hidden
i'm practically schrodinger's cat
the brief accent of a wistful memory
leaps up, latches on. it's too late, herr memory
it's too late.
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