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Subtle overwhelming
of the world we witness,
reviled by everything but that which we confess
we know in times of weak,
dark flux, joint changes felt
beneath the
way we speak.
And at some point we melt
together at the head with seamless
skin, the only scarring where the dead great grey meets, two so
well a-liked for being pretty on
the surface of our tongues
as we sing
songs you like.
Out of lace we made it;
the holes were our starting
point.  A hood to cover all our indiscretions
for the good of every
body we share sins with.
Both our eyes
are open;
we see twice as many
of our lies as yours and subtly
we overwhelm each wave in fits of victory.
We try to save ourselves. The life-vest
will not fit us both, not
around our
four-lung chest,
our two-faced neck, and not
a hope to stay afloat
forever, just a temporary post to gloat
from 'til the scent sticks deep
and we breathe permanence.

25 May 07

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