you are drunken lotus

the kids who make lists

and the bumps with the fists

the butterfly handcuffs

that come with the wrists

the words that i’ve used

to say what i meant

the silence i’ve wasted

on the speech that i’ve spent

i’ve been pressed so hard

against the future that it’s the past

i’m up against your window

and you’re looking through my glass

but my cup is almost empty

and the moon is almost new

you can have a drink of me

if i can have a drink of you

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