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Black days
when it makes frantic and
obvious sense
to leap to the liquor store,
treading on the pavement cracks
like I did when I was a kid
shouting “I WANT to marry a rat!”
raping the flowers
and hatefully beheading them,
punishing them for an eternity 
of beauty,
hammering on a strangers door
asking them “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
stamping on their toes,
singing protest songs to nobody,
chasing butterflies on fire,
entering the bearcage
telling him “you don’t frighten me
you ol’ bag o’ bones”
grabbing old ladies by the hand
and kissing their wrinkly foreheads,
Scaring young children with
a natural ugliness
before hopping and skipping
back home with wine in the bottle
to end up lying on the living room floor
waiting to wake when it is over
to be totally sane and dull

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