the goons curse like
drunken sailors
because they do not know
how else to speak
i am cold, but
if i were away id
be warm
i can feel my youth
sucking, freezing, dripping
out as i sit in
blue hard plastic chairs
they care too much
about
trivialities
we both think differently
what i hold as important
they feel is trivial
like a summer day is
not as important as
significance of digits
and their exactitude
makes them cold
metallic and hard to the touch
the beauty is lost
in a sea of numbers
and symbols
desiring nothing...
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