newly washed in white light
i venture into the grey murky shadows
they cling to me
and i attract the dark patches
they stick to my skin and
make me itch
sucked from the clutches of contentment
split from grace
dripped like hot wax onto my record are the
pains and sorrows
burnt into my flesh
i'm reaching towards the light
my hand is a silhouette
beyond it are the things to come
the taste of
perfect pitch
drink
liquid light
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