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RMatheson
Poems
May 2011
Exit Bag
I've got oiled bearings of lead in my gut,
rolling through my intestines.
My mother's never cried quite enough;
I'll get some more tears out of her.
So cover my head in plastic,
pull that Velcro tight,
swallow down the pills
dissolving on the tongue,
dive off the building.
Written by
RMatheson
Beating tired bones
(Beating tired bones)
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