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Image for the poem Brushing The Moon

Brushing The Moon

...in death coming close, brushing the moon,
my decaying corpse, to kissing my birth,
laying down playing dead, with my fate    
touching my body, once the eyelids,
in life wearing masks over my genitals,  
nothing to read, except for my obituary,  
dust drifting over my face, brushing the moon,
translucent jellyfish
Written by PaleSkies
Published
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