Who Titles These
lust intoned
with death.
and people, friends,
speak of ends
of where we go..
They know, within an atrophy
they goad.
they claim then with arrogance that all is lust,
and that lovers lie to truth.
But i would find,
with my eyes,
that they still must goad...
And it means that they soon shall find their seams
unwind.
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