The Story Teller
Smoke Inhaled
Inflating
Embodied
A living cliché in
The little boy who
Never
Grew up.
The sophist
the prince
the Employee at the Liquor Depot on 178.th
His true worth lies in torrid, truth-less tales Served best cold with night creaks and distant traffic while sitting side by side in the skeletal playground where once in matching bowl cuts and fluorescent shirts we raced His old self dreams of living once again in natural light but even smoke cannot exist in two worlds at once
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