michelleDETORIE | ||
Before there are no sanctuaries. Without birds Flying through, the soul is open territory For wounding. We scraped the lakes dry Milking salt for our tears, fasting our hand To plates to placate the glacial creatures Living in papers, their occult markings making Promises they never keep. We build A new home with yesteryear singing in our ears While these are old fevers burn in the roads and rivers. What's built on thieving. If you want to live, sign This petition. If you want to love, come on. |
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advent16 D U S I E |