Your Number On The Timeline

You make use of me, next ,/I look at your blurred eyes./I feel I’m adding,/ and subtracting, as well/ the owed me./The reason we measure a mouth /we roam with the damned./I’m one of your creations,/I put out the fire /across my arms. /It’s nervous mirth/ you can’t contain,/not even rage, or energy./It’s pressure from numbers encoded,/ newspaper products for sale/ what you must swallow./I merit what I’m feeling,/ you’re familiar as a long afternoon.

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