more strange poetry from the notebook of utah

Sinking, dreaming, feeling lower and stiller than sleeping, sounding warning, - in quiet still, untying... The work that draws me doesn't know me and collecting years of minutes, like atrophy - a trophy of triumph in trying me out, wearing souls out. Patchwork vapors of normalcy, conformity - well bought, sold cheaply, sold simply, for money... This one was about a girl that worked the cash register at this store I went to everyday.

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