dichotomous nothing
the air bleeds
honey cough syrup
stirred by a Southern wind
winding ribbons around the soul
symphonies around suffering
boxed up in pairs
sweet like pears
the taste of bitters on my tongue
lick the surface of starving minds
tired bones buried
deep
in the earth
dormant dead and dusted
dreaming of something better
than sallow skin
bone marrow chipping in
to make days of dichotomous nothing
will there ever be something
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