Copernicus The Cypher

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Let’s take our tea, you and I,
To a department store, three stories high, 
A still life of female forensics,
Feminine displays framed by Newtonian laws of thermodynamics.
We hung from wires and the evidence of clawing at drywall,
Carrier pigeons, we drop our messages, 
Painfully bright, we beautifully light up fluorescent skies.
Mean bullies laughing and pointing at our stale pallors,
Our silken shrieks and sunken cheeks.
Wings held back, slowly unfurling, awakening from etherization.
Pinned souls on mannequins with another chrysalis on the floor.
Swept up onto trucks of cocoons full and over flowing,
To never make it back home, we remain splayed and glowing.

So you think. 
Now you crawl.
Just rest a while and drink.
You’re dehydrated that’s all.
Teased by laughs.
The dying take hope from anyone, even liars.
We fall out of rescue, crushed under bus tires,
Cacophonous sounds of misheard gaffs.
(Shut up, okay? I cannot hear what he said.

What did they say to me just now? it’s so fucking loud in here. What’s the crackling I hear?)
Use domestic measurements, we delightfully suppressed the misuse of diagnostics.
Look at the shiny keys – listen to them clang and chime together. A cappella. 
Forget maps and figures.
Forget recommended filler.
Forget daily portions.
Forget configurations.
Forget blood red.

Remember only what is.

But I already forgot.
Listen to inside only.
Listen to me,
Me alone and lonely.
What once considered lovely,
Now for your eyes only.

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