every line leaves
a piece of my sorrow,
roughspun silk, to drape
down your thrumming

a filthy kite string
connecting tragedies,
burrowing blow flies in
the dessicated heart
of passion.

i would gladly hold
every broken soul tightly
to my steam powered heart
in hopes of sealing the

but i cannot, so i
leave a trail of discarded
odes to litter the highway
scattered bits of souldander


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