morning ugly

the fine print on the contract for one tattered soul in exchange for drowning in an ocean of diction never mentioned grinding your softest bits to dust to make the ink the heartthistle quill imbued with a breath swollen with broken sobs barely held back

the magician doesn’t show the audience how the trick is performed leaving the illusion of magic hidden in flair and a dramatic wink shared in the silent moments where wonder is no longer myth trapped in a vase waiting for pandora

shedding dry skin from the dead scar tissue that lines the sac between chemistry set and calcification of unlistened voicemails left on god’s misplaced phone somewhere at the edge of oblivion as witnessed by a chorus of meal worms midfeast

it is too cold for bitter longing to bleed across the fresh linen where my desperate heart grasps at the emptiness that is all these wheezing valves have ever clung to amid lightning strikes with unerring accuracy finding the metal grit in evaporated sighs

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