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12-28-05 thursday 10:52pm
tasted light as words often are. the pitter patter of feet that run nowhere.
but are always moving. and truant lives traumatized by the statuatory rape
of their only clean memory. steadily time encroaches. until nothing is new
again.
bark shed. at the base it waits to be smothered in fallen leaves. growth unfettered.
where going is to such places that. veins untethered flowing with all the
redemption blood can give. as it spills so effortlessly from bare incisions.
as you cover up, but still it bleeds through every bandage.
salamander eyes feel the sight. with a pointed tongue. that we are the scent.
the speculation that is love.
that we are graced by those miracles that we become.
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