MET the Light that beats
down my face
a splice of time
& space and twelve elders
when they came the women
fainted and lifestock too
— oh . Whoa. My
faith grew unto a forest
of gentle green to kill
their unholy kind : we’ve
been blind: there’s no denying
Oh! yea! i’ve been crying.
— walking all i see the sun
just the sun of ‘in my eyes’
its sane/as i scream these
razor eyes\ come find me come
find me — ooooooh now.
:: 07.25.2020 ::
Poetry
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