the day the night went moonless,
a chorus cried out,
bleary eyed and tuneless,
us in our long shadowed innocence
never stood a god damn chance.

sticky lipped like vampires,
spinning drunk on changing tides,
bleary red chills: goosebump dances
(brushed with death to breathe alive)
yellow leaves in hearse rides.

Painting theromin by numbers,
feeling-hearing split and folded,
a snicke...

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