They are exposed, S.O.S., lighthouse
in the know, spinning
short words, hacked nerves,
blood guts black crusty gore.
Our norm,
your cup, drink after drink, it's our blood
on which you gorged,
weeny worms, that glow, in the light.
To Alexandria, is known peaceful, uninjured
limbs, sound bodies, strong minds, most
common scents, that handful one since, lost
in the dreams, of inks mighty sword.
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