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by
Eliot
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B E Cults
Poems
Jan 2019
Form (sly grin)
I'll take all of those terrifyingly gorgeous photographs of you
just to cut them into pieces
and use them like paint.
That is me pulling your visage
down from the heights only
to confuse it with the dirt.
It is also me showing you that
the pervasiveness of your form
is never lost on me.
Every particle, entangled.
I don't need to see you.
You will make a science of yourself
before me and I will ask,
"why?"
I drew your viscera by candlelight
before I ever watched you avert
your eyes from mine.
I wept while shrines built in your name were pulled to the earth, your disciples chanting as they bloomed black into the hungry sky.
Every particle, entangled.
"Seen" is a stupid term.
Although I am still seemingly
bound to it's use because of
every single one of you.
Written by
B E Cults
30/M/hendersonville tn
(30/M/hendersonville tn)
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