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A Simillacrum May 2018
I load a fat bowl.
I insert stem.
I trust my lips
at the hole.

I see a split world.
I hold it in.
I let the lies
matter not.

Beyond a pale veil
beats the bitter heart
the soul of destruction.

In its own realm
it lacks the fear to lie
so it reigns unashamed.

I burn more trees.
Invite the ash in lung.
I cough out Ebajalg.
Invite the joy return.

Wind through the lazy curtains of my window,
Music enter my limbs through vibrations in my toes,
Lit only in moon and blue cyber light I ignite the signal fire,
For someone, somewhere, also in sweat in demon dance.
ruby stains Jan 2015
she was like a thread-bare
cotton sweater; she needed to be turned  inside//out when w:ash*ed.
kui ta oli number viis : if she was number five in estonian form

— The End —