The aneurysm
crept up your scapula;
like a series
of mini fevers
that all break at dusk.
You don’t need it anymore
you don’t need it
anymore
you don’t need
anymore.
In the desert
when the darkness comes.
Blood dancing
out of your eyes
just barely ajar;
hands clasped
listening to the sound
of rushing water
beneath your feet.
There is no optimism here;
you've seen it always.
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