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I consider the taboo

I wish for the taboo

I laugh laugh laugh at the norm…

Sickly-sweet the smell of hope leaves my nostrils…

Breath of faith you are not welcome here…

And I de-evolve into the taboo

This is a necessary sacrifice

Nothing else can work

I am at the centre of a barren barren barren bodywasteland

Strips of skin coat the sand around me

There is no resurrection here

You make a coat of skins to get through the desert nights

Have you not heard-

Did you not know-

Winter in the desert is the harshest kind of desolation

There is no resurrection here

There are no firm grips here

Translucent transitory

Ephemeral the hands that do grip,

Ephemeral the words I do hear,

Saying nothing decipherable or of meaning

The skies say naught

The skins envelop

The skies say naught

The skins envelop.

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