The Saintanist

 

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Are you confused my dear?

When I frown from ear to ear?

Are you troubled

by my double

who so frequently appears?

 

if you might but see your eyes

when all is dark and deep and still

hear your voice while whispering

you could give birth to what you kill

we would slip through together

past the veil of wrongful woe

this misdirected stormy weather

at what must or must not be so

I am the priest who fornicates

yet remains devout regardless

the one does not negate its mate

in this land of hippocampus

 

You can do it if you try

already you are dead while living

because all moments you pass by

exist in half formed grieving

is there a breath you can recall?

or did it rise and fall

a stale decomposition

If you cease such self punishments

remain expansive and feeling small

we may depart until we meet

in no time at all

-White Witch

 

 

 

 

 

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