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these disgraces we carry around are heavy
but we want for nothing
we cannot locate outside of ourselves
deserts cleared of names
mountains without footprints
or water unbroken by propellers
these disgraces we carry around are heavy
yet they have come so far to be with us
to help in our formation
we look for the body without caresses
a type of skin we have not risen against before
we dissolve out of religions
to the chambers of our choice
we disgust ourselves with age
dressed in smoke and flames
become fluid like molten plastic
we cross the world to find places
we must rename navigating the river
to drift out to the ocean
Page(s) 21
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- Second Aeon
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- Staple
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- Thumbscrew
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- Yellow Crane, The