Because death could not be beaten I beat death at its own game A conversation at the top of the stairs In the middle of the night With a figment of the response To 20th century devastation Personified as a humble pastor Saying there’s been a lot of death going on But what if we beat death at its own game And that was when my brain knew Though still addled with delusions Of seroquel and catatonia That despite the fact that I was the cause Of everyone around the world dying God was saving every single soul In a million tiny bubble acts of stealth That nothing can separate us Even a burrowing tunnel leading to the glow Of a television snake eating its own tail From the love that shuts our eyes in sleep At the end of a long naked journey That can only bring us back to where We started in silence and ended smiling whole
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