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47 Adrift Oh the diminishing racket of voices calling my name eclipsed by the new moon and indiscernible dark I have somehow become the center of the universe I wept for a year on the open water strangling myself with banishment sensation vanishing in the depths the rain a faded photo from fifteen years ago I am a forgotten bit of metropolitan trash tied to his moment of redrawing the border between twilight and daybreak Forever at the edge of something that could save me And the disastrous fear of what it would take to save me My life in its entirety only imaginary or perhaps the rapturous notion I cannot be saved ...

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