14.xii.22
1077
3.347
burn brightly
for ghost writing
leave fuse to fizz
bury old colour under
scourge all self
in sackloth ash
itch no more
I, my choir, no I at all
and still the sea dives in
to ache beyond the bodily
never to touch again, still feel
world no longer weighty
it’s to the ever dreaming
nor easily convinced
best beyond this date
rise like a sun again
it’s diamond rough they do it
gods are very far
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