the weight of your shit.
I see the platform cracking,
the glad green light.
The serpents are shedding maps,
the undergrowth prowls
with its own tongue foot.
Sanctuary is in
the severed umbilical.
Aisles cool with vacancy are
filing outward from
the buckled sun.
We could walk there
but we wouldn't. We will
drip down the charcoal cliff face
like veins. There will be
no lasting pain.
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