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Orange Grids


My translucent curtains

Know all my dirty secrets
They colour my vision to beige

Your face is still a haze 

My white lies slip through

The gaps in my teeth
The flow of fresh carbon dioxide

Is mixed with the air of uncertainty that I breathe





I light myself a cigarette 

and put it to mouth
Black fills up my senses
And gushes into spaces of self doubt


My jaded skin curtains

They know my dirty little secrets
They saw us kiss in the shower
The vapour of your steamy lust covered the orange grids


I light myself a cigarette

 and put it to my mouth
The white ceiling has crumbled in this drought...
Maybe it's time to change the curtains now.

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