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where madness is called wednesday

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I’m writing this to you now because
no one has made me feel so alone since.
Stephen Dunn, from “The Capitalist’s Love Letter,” A Circus of Needs: Poems (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1987)

(Source: apoetreflects)

1,981 notes

It was autumn, the springtime of death. Rain spattered the rotting leaves, and a wild wind wailed. Death was singing in the shower. Death was happy to be alive.
Tom Robbins, from Still Life with Woodpecker (Bantam Books, 1980)

(Source: apoetreflects)