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1/4 water and 3/4 dirt


It was in the night, after four seasons of blight, two carnival tours and all that media hype, when I revived your reception of my only twist You never looked greener, you never looked more sick, you never looked at a knife without a fretful twitch Sand in your pockets, clawing at your seas, all it took was a chisel and grammar to crack your altered reprieve Reprise Rise You foamed at the suggestion, you balked at the idea you screwed up your mouth a let everyone trip into your gonorrhoea You ain’t better than the drugs I’ve spilt You got satisfaction but no ash to tilt You aura is a fiction, your third eye is a plaque You wonder why the wind’s never  at your back Your coins are scattered and your sword is feeling drawn But nothing is certain until all the bleeding’s done Your cups are shattered and your arrows are shot   But your voice is broken from what I heard you caught You ain’t better than the black wax I dripped Figures in the night you think you slipped You’re made of sinew, pus, bone and trysts Even when you’re buried you’ll be another trick Snort her refusal Shoot her renewal Wait for the bank and Blank her pursual Shadow her heartbeat Wake up her dead It’s only with a throat That you get a head So you said You ain’t better then the germs that spread You’re hiding in the bathroom at 2pm You sure do like it, remember it well Time slips a burden twice glanced in it’s shell Feeling locked out and simple Feeling trampled undersea Feeling your wrist go limp and slip and Break against a leave Seeing your house split beams Your library flood and rust Seeing your delicate mouth betray a silver and a forked tongue You ain’t a letter to the rupture still Shining tendons split the wheeling film Conveying your sleet train, conjuring a mass The sheet that envisions inside of a pelvic cast And anyways, After all that, I’m sorry for all the things I said in the press Perhaps, I just need to rest. Sincerely, Tulane Glass From Werner, Mass. 

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