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an explosion made of knives by Nate Hoil

I’m no longer jealous
of anyone
who has a choreographed knife fight with their friends.

I was born exactly 10,000 years ago,
down to the millisecond.
I can’t help who I am
unless I get to choose who I’m reincarnated as.

I would choose to be a mirage.
Or a prophet
whose mind is still sleeping.

I just woke up from sleepwalking,
in the midst of an action sequence.
Now it’s one second later.
I walk into a different room that looks exactly the same.

I tell myself “Don’t worry.
These sad days will still be here tomorrow.”
we will make thousands of babies.

We will reach for the dawn and pull at the sky.

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