As Jim lie there, stage cold, lights
Turned ON. But not him. Sweat.
Leather. Dying breath. He felt the wine, dying on the vineβ¦ recognized the Indians, and the smell of antifreeze. With the breath of an angel, he heard the voice, There Are No Partners, Friends, or bruthasβ¦.
In this world, like all worlds
You are aloneβ¦
Atone for that
Pay for your belief in kindness
He lie, without a voice, as do I
Silent evermoreβ¦ β
(matthew bowers) ~93
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