(what death looked like) **** (what death meant)
a syntax of bones **** under a voluminous tent of skin
blood running faintly **** a trail of liquid mules, over the same million miles, in sweet time
undying thought **** a raging habit, without the costumes of reason
no mirrors sought **** hunger leaves, before the plate is empty
a reach **** through with time, no plan in mind
inward sky **** without horizon line
enough has been said **** the body as tongue, is limp
end of breath **** the space between the drumming reveals itself
listening without reverie **** soundless, passing itself off as silence, is golden . . .
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