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dare you to tell me you don't get it (07/05/2020)
crystalline echos
of webs run jagged
collapsing against the face
of what history wrought.
winds stripping flesh:
the immolate cries
at a thousand stakes
freed from the old mortar
churned under one hundred years
by the twisting abuse of saints.
you'll know me
by the raw and torn:
by the salted splines
of feathers shorn
bristling under embers
and by ire
you'll know m...
Sunday 5th July 2020 3:01 pm
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