This has nothing to do with the light bulb prompt... but I may post something of that origin soon.
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Sitting against a tree
They’re not branches, just
unraveling trunk—
like a frayed shoelace
that won’t go back into its socket,
what good is it to me?
Yes, at regular intervals
I unbutton my pants to piss on the world,
>>>>but don’t we all:
>>>>being neither astronauts
>>>>nor poets.
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