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I’m so busted I can’t be trusted,
I’ve been stealing from myself
just to get high.
All the karma I’ve been making
is barely enough to keep me alive.
My account is in the negative,
my credit is a peace of mind.
I need a loan,
I need to borrow,
I need to find myself a wife.
Traveler Tim

Or get up off my ***!!
"our online lives"

I just stumbled on you in poem
and its quiet ache has stayed with me
all afternoon. The way it turns
a missing notification into something
almost sacred—pixels drifting
like fallen leaves, prayers planted
in comment rows—feels so true
to our online lives.
It’s like I’m looking for ways to avoid myself      

       (I’m looking for ways to not care)

It’s like I’m going around every corner trying to avoid my own stare  

It’s like I’m running away from a shadow

          (Yet I know it’s always there)

I’m afraid of every part of me I swear…

They want me to love myself???

                      “Say hi!”

  Look in the mask

         There’s blood
            
                     It’s stained.

Avoiding myself

(a lonely ride)

All of the ways I could

           -complain-

Look to my heart and you’ll see

     (inside it steadily bleeds)

Blood veil drags behind me
                       &
I don’t know how to scream
You can pretend that there’s nothing out there barbarically wrong.
Listen to some music, perhaps your favourite song.
Dance in union with your tribal beat. Another lovely day, now back to sleep…
I would not suggest a road to take nor demand you hit the clergy breaks.
No, I am no fake..
Traveler Tim
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