violent wind through the trees
loose and thrashing through me
shakes a soul from the leaves
i am the am not of oblivion
blends with breeze what with words
appears dead inside me
sharp as shrapnel shaken loose
from a hemorrhaging pearl
coursing forward with weight
and with injury and fate
trailing backward as leaves down a hillside
i am the am not of oblivion
mother, harness some breath
from your body and then
believe "nothing believes nothing and then..."
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