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    for the love, I'd fallen on
    in the swampy August dawn
    what a mischief you would bring young darling!
    when the onus is not all your own
    when you’re up for it before you’ve grown

    from the faun forever gone
    in the towers of your honeycomb
    I’d a tore your hair out just to climb back darling
    when you’re filling out your only form
    can you tell that it's just ceremon’
    now you’ve added up to what you’re from

    build your tether rain-out from your fragments…
    break the sailor’s table on your sacrum…
    fuck the fiercest fables, I’m with Hagen

    for the love, comes the burning young
    from the liver, sweating through your tongue
    well, you?re standing on my sternum
    don’t you climb down darling
    oh the sermons are the first to rest
    smoke on Sundays when you're drunk and dressed
    out the hollows where the swallow nests

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