COYOTE BLOOD
poetry, art, mistakes, music, love, visions and everything...
the 9,236,566th lonesomest man in the world
I go alone
with a half-filled moon
mocking my shoulders.
Head like a hot air balloon,
heart like a drum,
I am not getting young.
I can't stop moving
in this wound fight,
and I wonder if I ever will.
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