Murder will kiss my brow

Murder will kiss my brow.
One cemented grin, frozen in the minutes
Just between the cracks of fingers
opened in the deluge, to let the sound
Mate the seconds to the minutes
create that hybrid hour
A body folded, twisted like contempt
on the telephone tongue
Perhaps is the new maybe
from coded glitches painted apathy
A heritage of thieves
glossed and shined by misdirection
A tender eyed glutton
held hostage by gravity
And the weight of decisions
rests in the depression of the sidewalk

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