Meticulously planned nightmares
is that what you feed,
obsolete, after the drowning
isn’t it? Faith has no
birth marks,
neither any twin.

Headhunting, was that the
magical potion, added in ratios
of four? Sacrilege!
The skin held inverted
pinpricks, anodes and cathodes;
the body is battery,
charged beyond circle of confusion
only then it wallows
to the heeds of broken bones,
foretold mutations,
confessional faiths and
handwritten crimes.

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