States of Matter

what matters
there is no addition or subtraction
just more prisoners for parolees
more babies for the dead

i      to
  try    it
up    break

i cry tears to flood a river
the greedy ocean swallows them

i     sometimes
  lose
my   head

i burn up all the roses
the bush offers them again

dust to dust    ash to ash

words to wind

my city is made of air
it breathes

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