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Five Different Kinds of Pain
I’m down to coffee
And a hollow, gnawing sensation
Running, running the tank dry
Trying to find the pain point of going too far
Loss like a constant shadow
And I struggle to stay just one half step ahead
Rain beckons steadily through distant pines
While the sand holds my feet fast
It’s the distance that kills
But the jut of my hipbone forms a hollow
And that jolt of pleasure that I am not supposed to feel
I feel a lot of things lately that I am not supposed to feel.