319

The fire roars inside the breasts of men
as vagueness churns the loins into butter;
the heart, it beats with wisdom and regret
as faces blur and names start to stutter:
A purposeful ascent into this life
was all we asked of those who grant us time;
Intelligences spinning in pure bliss,
as faces blur and bodies turn to slime:
We've earned the truth – we think, we claim, we swear;
our daily bread is salt like forced exile;
intelligence is earned from sweat and tears,
as faces blur and hide and lie and smile;
The knife is warm; please slide it through my chest;
I'll die a crumb, since life consumed the rest.

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