Velvet-gloved peasants
scrape their
endless throats
across the
broken desert
Stranger cowls
that sphinxes
riddle swirl
in storms
alluring her
We stand in perfect
silence as the flag
is draped upon the
crooked pyramid
Lunging at the
balcony of history
is destiny's own
innocence
Who are we,
the prison guards,
to question wishes
of the iron barrister?
Cloyed in disgust,
trembling leaves
are buried in
the snow
Tap a rhythm on
your skull if you
wish to marinate
Strap yourself in
reverence to love
if you are radiant
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