we were earnest. committed to the lingering constant.
selling tomorrow for any price proffered.
we were counting. chasing absent gods. as their impossible fractions broke our hearts.
animals with borrowed claws. stalking the ugly time machines that had left us wanting.
we spent the staircases. we solved the locks. but the truth is a fickle villain.
all sour candies and missing decimals. melted in our pockets.
we pretended to know. in our pantomime of flesh. in the vertigo of touch.
still seducing all our sharpest corners.
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