Clock SpringA Poem by Patrick Westerhaus"You're getting grays," she said. "F**k off," I replied, but made straight for the mirror. She was right. Last night I dreamt my teeth fell out. I cupped them in my palm like so much gravel- all jagged and stained Things fall apart. Nothing's forever, dude. © 2015 Patrick Westerhaus |
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Added on December 31, 2014 Last Updated on January 1, 2015 Author
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