i hate this poem

right now
yes
i wish i was capable
of flight.

on late night buses
and early morning trains
i still think about your hair
covering my face.

often lack of sleep
drags down my eyelids
like the mutilated lobes
of our friends’ gauged ears -
and then we are.

sometimes i submit
myself.

what what what
are we doing so
far far far
apart?

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