Death and Taxes
Living in the shade of a hundred fears
Those indefinite trembles that shatter our tendons
That drop us in the ninth place we deserve to be
We leave the worms behind as we scavenge
We sift through the remnants of us
Hoping to find the origin of our headlessness
The grooves in our flesh have been smoothed over
Mended by rotted sweetness and its fifth parallel
We lose track of our infernal complex
We take the arduous way down
The slowest path through moisture's decay
It will be a long time going
Oscillation fills the cavity
Where they sing concrete songs
And honey drips from the branches
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