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Grip

Wreck rebirth,

The broken-bottled dregs unneeded for conviction anymore.

Median castaway,

the faded green's allure.

Played enough

at climbing from my concrete island home;

forgotten what those broken legs were for.I'll leave behind the tyranny of signs,

transparent things you hold on to.

I know what's mine,

a greying field of sky,

and in whose grip I lie.Pain no less,

blackout caresses,

encroaching green,

forgotten what my failing eyes had seen

once so excessive,

now so lean.

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