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To Keeley Rusek's next piececrosses, swords, hands she spirals down out of bliss and returns dancing in with nightmare lace in her eyes giggling and whispering that everything fades she spider-walks with finger tread across the baptism of my skin and makes her heart the hollow that I unfold in my palm she swings the light to the dawn claiming I'd never notice it was gone gathering the reins of my mythology into the scents of silence we wear like amateur Christs she parts the waters I puppet myself into like text like grace
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