Shells and bones make no difference
when your veins start rising to
their first sun
Mountains stay creamy to depths
they ascend as stars when the day is done
I am at every hour of throbbing
silence and the music with
its heart down my throat stills me
I sleep with hypnotic flicerking
in my soul like the peaches and
cream candle in front of me
I am away whispering
to my exile...
Home is stolen consciousness,
I don't know that
when I write this verse,
my lips arrive as a fortress...
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