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SAFE SPACE REPORT

Obviously this poem is too traumatic to teach to university kids! Simply with its image of torn bible pages oiled by the fluids of woman-identifying people, we do not need to detail why. We will simply give a rewrite that makes it REAL poetry. REMEMBER: POETRY MUST RHYME!

Boulevard of Triggered Dreams

He carried his life, a vagabond's plight,

All belongings clutched, a seedy sight.

On the safe-spaces worn embrace,

A deeper warmth, no central air's grace.

Consciousness snapped, a coin's clink on the floor,

Hungover in a motel's trans bathroom's core.

Blood-spit and brown piss, a missing tooth's gap,

A searing side profile, etched like Kubrick's trap.

TV drama's voice, eager to defame,

"You ceased being yourself," they exclaimed.

But deep within, his rugged skin revealed,

An aging journey, through a mirror's field.

The scent of absconded lady parts lingered near,

Gideon pages torn, whispered tales sear.

Caffeine, alcohol, nicotine entwined,

Guiding him to realms where time unwinds.

A hurricane-eye feeling, adventure's fire,

Awakening on cool concrete, pigeon's choir.

Dumpster air wafting, restaurant's decay,

Oceanic freshness, duck sauce's disarray.

Hooked on fires, problematic veins ablaze,

Bad times enlivened, in a DEI-healed maze.

Trash in jail, bologna's pale embrace,

Hard apples and peanut butter, a gritty taste.

Crack whores' pack, a ruthless embrace,

A gazelle's throat clenched, dreams interlace.

Floating amidst a womb-like dream,

Pain diffused, evolution's redeem.

Winter shelters filled, options laid bare,

Hospital walls, anti-psych meds, a solace rare.

Regretless plea, mailed to childhood's hold,

Exploits recounted, wild and bold.

Bottle-smash dangers, a perilous domain,

Untrustworthy companions, their presence wane.

Freedom from routine, a bitter pill,

A question lingers, a writer's will.

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