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2 November 2023

icarus (grounded)

 not all birds winter in the south      some of us are flightless       moribund and exhausted       some of us are accidents        car crash victims      veterans of unhappy wars       long since wounded    and purple hearted       they say having flown      you’ll forever walk the street       with your eyes on the sky       for there you have been and long to return       not to reap or sow       but to soar without constraint         beyond imagination

I have wounds       hidden scars        but all my surfaces      such as they are       present spotlessly clean      at least to the naked eye     but I’m filthy         by decent human standards     and my wings of wax     drenched in lust        fucked up and sorry         have failed me        in the hour of my disillusionment      forever fixed in space     in the moment of crashing         I am leaden now       and planted in the soil of my woeful discontent     

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