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UNTITLED ❋ Bridget Boylan
i can dissect your drawings into smaller parts
i can define your statements to objective leanings
i can trace your face in observation
i can respond without thinking
i can not listen to you
here is where a poem turns
here is where i become conscious
i am feeble in my turnings transgressions and transits
i can hear a baby crying through the walls
i can have 9 abortions a year if i want
//
you can not listen to me
you can roll a smoke
you can turn on a different album
when i start talking you can turn towards a friend and incite conversation
a different conversation
it’s hard to keep that balance
the tuning is the same but way lower
normal chords still it’s so deep
i love it man