We
sit in haunted attics
clothed like unfinished
flesh.
He could have relied on
abstraction,
I could have died on a
word.
Feel you in my shoes baby,
walking
in the air.
Brace
yourself, feet.
Induce
the future
persistence
of memory,
observe
articulation.
Cut through tangled hair!
Light
every corner we hide!
What
do you want in a three eyed world?
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