unfolded wings being
so rare in our sight
the way people stare
so willing to wear
such things
like transcendental canines and molars
& confessions of the rising sun
pocketing the most slippery of eyes
when
everything is psychotropic
everything defiles the mind
everything is an addiction
everything is good and fine
with eyes past pride
or rearview mirrors
that keep us from seeing
but also from being seen
& now i'm talking to a girl
with a martyr's name
& her two faces
cost a pocket-full of stars
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