.......
that
your rib gate
goes insane
hands over the keys
to that
soft soft
garden
nurtured behind the ribs
.......
that
our souls melt
into
one
flowing stream of
flowers
and
screams
and
smiles
.......
that
soon
We’ll lead ourselves
to some altar
where our innocence
will be sacrificed
to a god
sitting somewhere
deep in us
downwards
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