Rocks

I cannot be a victim of an unnamed crime.
Spent the day mourning the obliterated star of my youth
Sat on my opus like an old man
Used the word opus not quite ironically.
I don’t have a word for this, I said at 33.
Flaunted my bad vocabulary. Called things rad.
Nearly drowned in a sea of memories with not a word to save me.
Pondered the shattered mirror
Practiced throwing rocks

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