every morning, every night 

i inhale a clifftop high

or low lake, sunk 

drinking and drunk  

all things are dust, said He 

but would she want me?

this noxious waste, 

phantom, foul taste, 

oh, She would vomit

this liminal spirit

wanderer, mourning 

whilst others spin

i will embellish myself

afresh, good health

so She might devour me whole

the good, the bad, and all

 

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