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Broken Pieces of Poetry

By H.G. Miller

Playing Tetris turned
          My mind to tapioca
Slowed metabolism 
          Blood trickles thick through
                    my veins
Tired arms tell my 
          Tired fingers 
                    To type
The radio sings love songs to me
Broken pieces of poetry
          Fancy me 
          How the vowels sound
                    In my mind, anyway
My pudding mind
          Images of airplanes and dollar signs
Blinking lights
Vacant nights
          And all songs will always remind me