Breadcrumb #151

ANGELICA FUSE

The drier ate me,
spat me out onto the earth,
I am the dusted and weeded
late spring haze,

I am listless yawning soul
ready to go back to sleep
but now fully aware, sipping
pear and fizz,

yesterday, it was lemon
and piss, but that was then,
and my wings are spread
now, so I am new creation,

the husk of my yesterday
blown away into breeze.

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