when disaster comes, it swallows us up in its dusty storm cloud with a howl, and shakes us by the jaws of fate
or other times, failure is manifest in the pungent midnight silence, where breathing is too shallow to be real sleeping
but with my age comes knowledge of the holy us
i can now see the smiles and sparks that make fuckups crumble, pill, and fall like white erase board marker markings
the breaths of timeless compassion, cloudy at the two am station where i wait for your limitless love.
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