rainy faucet
walk right by,
the yellow-lit room,
and the sink.
This machine is broken,
the tightly sealed fissures
splitting like scabs,
the toothpick appendages
wobbling like the
cheap manufacturing plant they were concieved in.
Between the places of open,
and closed,
squeezed inside of the almost,
I am squeaking,
I am leaking.
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