down with cardboard
i walk among many of
your eyes and they are
all mine
not me but mine.
there are windows
that look forward to
our fail our falls our
morbid crooked smiles.
open wide and serve less
while we tear open ourselves
and subdue the promises;
we are distant gatekeepers
all dressed with mortar
and cultivated freedom.
where i let my magic disintegrate
into magick.
where you place your orbital
truths on my spine and
memoir our meditation.
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