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Each Breath is a Guest

the mountains will not hoist you but if they do, the deepest waves have tasted their peaks the skies will not suspend you but if they do, what feather has the wind not plucked? what garrison, what citadel, what fortress, what hold, yet—a barricaded artery no force can breach yes, these cosmetized eyes, these embellished cheeks might give the maggots pause— perhaps regret when the silk is severed and gold is gouged: what will memory wear? each breath of yours is but a guest not every peace has rest

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