I have tackled you to the ground with investments of waking
suiting the sweat that collides into twenty three hours of defeat
at the hands of time which has no bending sound and the sun the burns you accordingly
can you swim the channel with an anchor on your back or ride into the eyes with chains in your throat there is so much salt water to swallow where you lack
the distance the heat thus lack of confidence
Year zero applies to one
swallow the opportunities and face the historical references with a finger
capture the moment with each voice hidden in the mist
screaming for the benefit of everything and the lightly tinged fuck you in the sky
curse the tortured and enslaved of religion
pulling apart their hearts with restrictions of the heart and mind
below the open sky
cure the unopened hands and wounded mouths that seek to speak for themselves
voiceless without hesitation just to bleed from where they stand
made in sand
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