Small Mammal House Noir (a poem)

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Small Mammal House Noir

Prone in dark feeling cold spaces inbetween laptop keys
drinking myself into something utterly my phylum.
Right now and only right now
a cold spot means my brother has died at the party
and movie characters are saying what
I’ve thought, I’ve always thought
that when friends go outside to smoke credit is due
to the venetian-striped warmblood exhaling on screen.

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Small Mammal House Noir (a poem) | Ecency