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The wounded
At the old people's disco
They drink water in glasses,
And wrinkled women
Flirt in tight dresses.
At the club of the wounded
The broken hearts
Are like flickering candles
In the black walled room.
It's a lot to bear
This being human;
We get old and broken,
We need other humans to oil our pain.
2018
Transported
How sweet to be
Transported,
Lifted up in a great
steel cage,
Swung across
Light strewn roads;
My body is airborne.
Bus driver:
Bear me home.
2016
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