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182 The End of It I fall to bed With razor sharp pencils Still balanced on my ear Bowing at the feet of sleep Arrogantly And adorned As if I always have something to say Sometimes It falls off all Cowboyishly And hides itself away Up under night And cover Sometimes It hangs on Nicks and licks The reins of my ear As if I were sugarcubed And it a reptilian tongue No matter How I toss Or where I turn It rides my brown lobe All night Like a Buffalo Soldier And is still there When I blindly go To wash my morning face 183 One black lead toe Pointing back In the mirror As if it has something more It would like to say ...

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