Adulterated bridled breath
Spoke one story of the dead
About their elongated posture,
Fusing thorny thoughts in head.

Bleeding eyes in the Broken,
Mused the sickly lonely souls,
Caught in thoughtwar
In the darkness,
With each drag
They’re getting cold.

Exhaling with veteran labor
Watching the curl of every line,
He rides along each breath
Like one who’s never tasted wine.

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