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PERISH THE THOUGHT
They always suggest
cleansing
that dirty mind;
the slick perversion
leading to conversion
into poetic thought
the poetry
attempting,
ever in vain,
to write itself
utter pretense
in one moment
crystalized by fervent faith;
the endless delusions;
the lies we tell ourselves
a moment of clarity
is too much to ask
They’ll keep harping
their voices echoing
in a canyon
of nonsensical sound
we’ve learned to ignore
