August 23, 2013
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Let time be the slip from one edge to the next
A watched timekeeper,
Lids heavy with a thousand years under brow,
Corrosion the broken bits from fingertips
Stroke a past coral deep, passion driven to no end
Endless rebirth from your wombless mind stared down
As pearls do drip
Ornate in gold as your backings upon beast
Chains to wood, to hollow throats
Skin stolen back from gated flesh
Do not but let me in
Cavernous thoughts in your knotted
Conscience atop bones thus grained
Follow patterns in the wood
Encased in many hands of
Peace pried open at the lashes
Cross legged in remorse:
Enlighten me to the inability of self-loathing
Say these worlds as I shall be healed
But peace is what I crave and I have yet to find it here.

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