when I spit /
it will be a child /
sound slicing down the street /
words may never knock /
on the promised door /
heirs leaking into the bay /
gnawing boat hulls /
and the chest’s hopeful lock /
this way two too serious /
cut to a child holding up their dusty arms to a camera lens /
they know what penetrates play /
profit over movement /
suggesting a finger in the soft skull /
please make bastards of us all /
so the sun finally fails
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