90% of the Forest Will Go

I slept the whole night
on a lighter and two bottlecaps. I didn’t notice
until almost work when I undid my sight for the mirror, saw
their indentions leaving more than the usual amount
of slots on me

for unnecessary attachments. My eyes go here
I say, my lids peel off
like sheets
pulled abruptly from the bed
of an old couple, who hurt to see each another
then into the world, into slightly larger rings

around their comfort. Their life
is so precise, you can count up to its death

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