dance
By Leigh-Anne Mauk
dancing towards the beginning
of a truly manic end
images of glory faded
to replace all that was dead
a feather for the martyr
a dollar for the whore
a search for truth corrupted
in a melodramatic core
shall we dance?
drift into the loneliness
of an aching sweet abyss
find your tiny knife
with a masochistic kiss
oh deal me a card
of an apathetic spade
try to hold your breath
as the guile glints away
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