and i've been living in exile
from all these fantasies that
have come to haunt each and every
step I take
all of the breath that i've wasted
trying to burn your house down
run you out of house and home
but for nothing
stain my palms with
the ink from a black rose
so I can wipe the residue
all down your back
and further
the degradation
that i've grown accustomed to watching
every harvest moon
as the werewolves
come out to play
with your first born
which will be come your last.
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