Answers

Jaws hang open like broken
door hinges anymore. 
The rose gardens are lined
in melted celluloid. 
That’s the difference pretty
makes when you burn it. 

I feel as endless as an ocean,
this bottomless pit in the 
center of my head is gaping. 
Am I wretched?
Am I divine?

I’ve the questions of a fallen
angel and the answers of an
enlightened devil. 

I don’t even think god would
know the home to put me in. 

I’m not even certain it exists. 

B

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