I will drink the rainwater
from a metal sleeve
my veins will be prepared
for the purpose of a thousand warring shadows
to chip away the master plan
and leave me with a sacred fragment
smitten with lips of clay,
and a tongue beyond description
offices abandoned in high cubes of glass
glinting with the parchments of the past
from a green ditch I see the signal
of a disintegrating signature
blowing smoke rings from the void
its cursive scars had torched
all reflecting blues from Satan's porch.
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