my hands are spades for splitting wood 
and trim Hades' hair, doused out as it ought to
choked out in the night , face torn down
into a restful ease
stillness yet unmatched
like a broken watch 

my legs are belt buckles: tourniquets
tight switches for the imaginative lights
synapses firing across an ionic storm
so it can be funnelled into a trench
mindlessly cut by my feet 
thoughtless...

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