Mysticism (I Don't Need No Horoscope)

March 24, 2009
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Hot metal and
an overworked machine
that exudes steam like breath

that sweats black oil
into your palm
in puddles
that read like a
black cat:

this isn’t your time, Clementine.

This isn’t your time.
I don’t need no horoscope,
This isn’t my time.

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