missing presumed lost

These wheels won’t stop turning & I think I’m in danger| most often you’ll find me absent – eyed & starbound. I need a safe-cracker. I require a warning label & a translator. I cause arguments way too often, but most aren’t hearing me right. I’m doubling down. My words absorb life & light like noumenon [molecules in a square bottle] and when I’ve worn them all out with my bad mood I’m just glad you’re still in the room; especially if it’s soundproof.

You might not know, but in this you, you saved my life. Who could have guessed it culminated to an attainable purpose?

Now I’m afraid I don’t have anything but cicatrix, pale red & tactical/ burning a hole in my dress pockets for the lost. You must be bearing discreet laurels in the world yet if____everyone feels the directive to stop, take your picture and gossip…

It’s an infinite sabbatical.

–LM

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