the dirty ground /
the dirty words /
the filthy rake
of stage.

These lights that are burning
broken veins into my cheeks,
the whisper of dry ice
slipping through these starstreams,
feathers of dust
flapping their wings to my
song and dance.

The words that have
graced this stage
will make the headlines.

The skin of lips that float before me
like box jellyfish bloating my tongue.

No need to be nervous.
No need to be scared.
Sing what you feel.
Sing what you mean.

(it's like)
being in a cage with five tigers,
no one survives forever.

slip into my voice box,
sing for me the ending songs.

No one survives forever
(or do they in dust?)


The End

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