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monologues on home
the windows are closed.
the dogs are off their leashes.
police circle the blocks.
kids circle the blocks.
the flowers are made of neon lights.
airbags don’t work.
the red lights don’t work.
people are crashing into lights like flies.
the screens are black. the coffins are black
the sky is black.
blood is staining the pavement.
this is my blood.
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