I do not wish to sway
to the tune of the incoming flood
and oh, the flood
is right on the brink
the swathes of memory
the swerves of infinite empty existence
the fear of being submerged
and being invisible
I do not wish to relinquish myself
to be rooted out
– like a weed.
I must escape, and disappear
into the city alleyways,
garbage bins, brothels,
wherever it is safe,
the flood waits at the horizon
at sunset.
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