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“I march through…”

I march through
on heavy feet
with the weight of the day
on my shoulders
and the wind blows hard
against my face
a soldier of pain
the war is in my head
in my car
on the streets
in my room
and in my soul
on a steady diet
of nicotine and aspartame
I’m rollin’
with all my might
but the doors do not open
and the streets
don’t come clean
and my body is asleep
asleep in the backseat
of a Greyhound
I see it through
the rainy windows
and in the vacant towns
I pass through
while writing this book
I see it all through the cigarette smoke
and the ice in my glass
I see it all
and I see nothing
and I’m on my way

(from “Part Four: Tragic Glorious”)

I walked everywhere. Which was good. It gave me time to think and to feel. Sometimes, when you’re young, your life can seem pretty heavy.

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