sunset gestates over the jubilant waste
cracking its bloody egg on the horizon
it will never learn night’s mad jittering hands
these last altered shimmers
watch hands unseemly needles
tear away beneath those urban altars
delivering the false fruit despair
don’t roam too long among the grieving
wipe clear the failings of self
gain the spirit of these giving quills
and in the hovels seek dark truths
feverish resting on their haunches
awaiting the coolness of night to emerge
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