One Plant Per Grave

Fuck a point of reflection
An inability
To be set free of
Year end intervention
Has led me to the same church basements
With all of these conversations
That sound the same to me
It looks the same to me
Mean so little to so many
Yet look so big from the street
Interior been hollowed out
Over the course of coursed down stream
That puddled so comfortably
Next to that gasoline
Stained glass hard to see your face in
Neglect myself regardless
I did that consistently

One plant per grave
Limitation never truly over
Until the earth got your body
And that stone got your name



Credits
Writer(s): No Legs
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