EVERY NIGHT I SPIT A BIT

writing words across the mind
since I can't remember
but still every night

hope about a poem

tale-telling love
that goes against a wall
to be shot
feeling that dives
with no open air
a light that spins around solitude
with no meaning
or reply to be told
people stuck in a painless worm hole
itching and scratching
poisoned at chance
living against and
fed up with romance

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