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God, are you listening? "chicago poets do not understand my poetry" --d.a. Levy There is no accounting. The numberless phone calls, the messages sent and no response. God, are you listening? My soul pounds the pavement of seedy nights plunging into the grit of all night cafes. God, are you listening? I curse as I cringe at your perpetual winking like I'm one of your freaky jokes. Are you listening? Drinking in my own confusion the truth of myself slurs with conjugations as these words collide with this drunken world. I'm scraped everywhere at once. I'm uncalmed and ablaze. Lost. God, are you listening? I want to put You out of my misery, God, are you listening?
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