angels,
i have never seen one, but by the end of tonight i will,
and it will be in my bed, asleep like a corpse in its shell,
sunshine on its wings, lemon-coloured warm spilling over a hill.
when it dreams, its body does not rise and sink,
and when it stands, it stares and does not blink,
and outside they will shove and mock and laugh at it,
at its face that buries deep into the earth, body split.
the skin around my aging skin will only get darker,
searching the earth for its sweet mother.
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