breathe
in pure light
and
hold it
nation
of ghosts, right?
feels
good to be someone
other
than the one
who’s
bleeding
open
your mouth
and
all hope is lost
early
spring, cold as
hell,
frost on the windows
poison
in the veins
love
whatever is is you
can
never have, but
don’t
draw attention to yourself
river
of corpses, right?
set
the fuckers on fire and
listen
to their families sing
paint
pictures of god with
your
other hand, the one
that
lies to stay hidden
bite
into rotting fruit
without
considering the
deeper
implications
let
hope keep you tied to
the
things you already have
in
life, but avoid open water
live
in the shadows
of
tired hills
didn’t
your father ever teach
you
how to stay hidden
out
in the open?
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