Clinging, stuck
on a jagged rock
Ropes are superficial
Officially we are virgins
Mere specks,
run ragged,
led on and wishfully thinking
that the end will come
and it does.

When it does
us, we, our
hour by hour disintegrates
and it’s a great
short and sweet
and when the jaggy nettle enters the bouquet
we get excited
to see
who stings most.

Play tag with the angels
and those trees
they never do get spotted
by the wood
Would that only we could
keep clinging
and not let go
Then at the very top
let it all


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