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:: by


/


my miasma


i go where skunks go too
  1
i leave a residue
if i cut home on you
my essence hangs like dew

i gas down the backstreets
  5
waft pulsing off shoe-beats
fog memory accretes
stirring all that it meets

tobacco tainted skin
  9
reeking cold coffee gin
if i'm dirty done in
scattered spirits still spin

. . .

my massive miasma
  13
follows me all around

it'll stink high heaven
when i'm living underground







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