The air is purring like a voided breeze,

and the rare birds chirp out their history
as proud humans who dared to touch the trees
and turned to birds – that is their harsh story:
That is how construction works in this world:
we build up just to break down narratives
that we recycle as peasant tongues hurled
from their mouths and buried by nude natives:
I stood for something until corrected,
now I snipe from a crumbling skyscraper;
each shot is even aimed lower, flicted
by the slack body politic's taper:
My posture remains in tact, and I score
each death on the pristine and marble floor.
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