into my bloodstream,
they are all I know.
Sun's feathers
raining around my replacement shadow.
A stunned mirror of cages
looking up through the shivering trees.
Cartoons born to trudge in sorrow
while the flesh marches off.
The smirk of a modified unit
theory of a fucked soul
tucked into the maelstrom
like a wheat pocket
squatting on the radiant barrier
face wrapped for mister medusa
in a dance of shitting.
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