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the sun reflected

but who is it
that fucks
the holy dogs?

who is it
that reassembles
the bones of
the disappeared?

i am trying to
give you something
here

lorca's last words
maybe
as the sun reflects
off the gun's
barrel

and could you love
the daughter of
the man who pulls
the trigger?

could you place
your lips to hers or
hold her breasts
in your gently
cupped hands?

or imagine that
we are
all monsters

or imagine that
god is
an idiot's lie

these are the choices
and then i make
the decision simple -

both will
inevitably become
the truth

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