wash

Escaped or flawed, breath brings sound. Impact for reason? Noise for eyes? Are the lights there? Yes... But for earth. And not for fire. The fault of the crumbling, not the edifice. Here's the sand shifting in wind. Flung into sight, look past it. Clinging in shoes, dump it out. Nuisance. Rasping gnashing nothing. Down the suns. Fallen sand. Here's the lie of wounded breath. Comes the rain. Remove the lights. Bind the mud. Silenced earth.

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