Leaves of an alarming freshness
dangle in the air where
the soil was tainted.
Leaves mingle with the lines
they paint on the soul.
I deny the ersatz offering of deliverance.
The sky's veins dangle berries
of sweet celestial blood
to the willing mouth
in no other world.
I deny the ersatz blessing of sanity
gently, at the hour of the blue door,
in a yellow headdress screaming my name
to a nuked and sleeping mirror,
with the beauty of an ending
staked out through an imaginary path.
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