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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

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Path of Ashes

Be quick to love this flame
and taste its blue skin
but a night,
where cruel the burning
meets the flesh,
no cupping wind will keep that light.

A preying breath
may steal the shame
that binds the fire
where it burns,
then comes the dark upon strange wind,
and feeds the red flame as it turns.

A path of ash lies on the tongue,
and soot drags wet
along the thigh~
yet dawn cools pale the waxing night,
as black eyes watch the fire die.

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