to be i and alone and that i 

can’t breath right

to stop writing. the thing the

letters saying  l o n e l i n e s s

to can’t hold fear anymore

or get any older, since i am a  c h i l d

to watch the snow cling to the mountains the 

wind lifting upwards 

to watch dead fox getting eaten

by big bird sitting on it’s head 

to watch dark tumbleweed’s obstructed 

fluctuations in fences 

to recall prior traveling. with  h a p p i n e s s

this one is fiercer or raw

to watch and weep  over dead rabbits too, to feel 

stupid to because all things die

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