We always need
.
All the things that dent and die in a hush,
do not stop wish a wave, or with a brush,
a curve, a promise, a dozen times forgotten,
and never ventured, never considered mutton.
.
Left and right, into a wall...
splattered dreams consecrates us all.
They fall within the our day to day,
a reason to hide from yourself today.
.
There is nothing fast,
nothing real to make it last,
the christening warmth washes over us,
giving the tortured, writhing wraiths, a bit of solace.
.
And here, in the midst of destruction,
the lies we made go through reduction,
as it is clear to the dead, and dying,
that we are finished lying.
.
by lw end -<>















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