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erase me from the scrolls, stretched

broad like a sail, painted black

from self-inflicted piracy.

I won't look down, at the surface

because, the water distorts my illusions

back to me as judgements.

the gavel stops my heart.

I can't get away from the voices

in my head, the jury,

always unanimous in my conviction.

I sharpened my feet by stalling

and every step bled the clock,

now identified in the morgue

by conscience, the old rat that

always betrays me for immunity.