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(aJzjd)
out upon the carousel
that once you would despise
of vivid pain
that dig and push and reach
and when it deigns to stop
who you might be
around the edges of your face
you cannot know
so touch and feel the skin
and feel that gentle rain
until they scrape
atop your skull
to test the limits and
against the bone
extremities
of where this canvas
comes to rest
but now have joined
from violence overhead
in such a rough- scratched tone
in robbed identities
and peeling names
that rocks and echoes
that you could swear
were never yours
some fall dead- or close as
through the space
The music swells through you
The music vomits from you
that was your mind
The music calls a name
that through the tears
and many names that you might be
You are- of course
this place lets you lie
and when they peel it from you
of half-graspe
d memories
seems almost
like the skin of an orange
and eternally familiar
So dance
for- truly thus to die
the skin of an apple
Dance to the beat of the thump
of the chase of the
the skin of a pig
still and plastic horse hooves
which cannot break
a faceless thing as well
would be too eager an escape
the skin of a child
from where they are secured
by bolts and glue
the skin of a YOU
and eggshell-th
in reality
that paints a visage of sense
and listen to the ebb and swell
then comes the briefest flash
almost enough to tell you
that the nausea that swells
that surely now it's done
and pushes at the limits
of your mind is incorrect