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Paul Sands Reads

rise

rise that we distance
anything less than the invited
silence girl
rise through the anonymity of your greasy canvas
let the cold extinction
of peasants doubting the dead write your loathing of me
you are high and I
am cover for every
petty perception
yet not nor ever the mirror you deserve
the glass so close
many time inflicted kills where the wounds downpour
     impatient in their obligation forced lengths will burn
     splintered lungs and
hand held photographs
yet dusted tributes drum
a rumpus along a veined abandon as wounds licked
    hold off such forced hope
no wires can close
so puckered a wither of callow tribute







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