If your necklace was as black as her's, you'd see things like that
The clear sky was never as blue, the grass quite green
a hesitant glimpse up and then to the left
revealing the skateboard prophesy of a drifting saint.
That's it! A skeleton hand
reached for something of yours; certainly not your soul.
That black diamond, causing arrhythmia, ensconcing your hopes
within "hatred, fuck, pain, desire"
teenage words of a bank cashed statement
Despoil but deposit
My fading embers are quite cold.
Don't try just
com-pre-hend
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