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the ballad of the beartrap

A silhouette of sawback spines
Wisps of storms and dreams alike
Memory winding, surpentine.

23 floors;
a long time to reconsider
the one way street of hearts that wither
elevator sights in passing
a continent ready for glassing
frozen and inert in time
a glimpse of dawn by our design

48 stitches;
scalded and scarred man-made witches
maimed and renamed
reshaped into a willful lamb
...

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the end of aimsto meTo you

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