Take this cadaver slice open the stomach contents like a a shark.
I have meat on my breath.
I have a bite in my bark.
Of all that happens behind closed doors like a watersodden carcass rolling in the waves of the shore,
it is not my doubt.
The odor spoils my god heartache and sours my mouth.
In all that remains, the pits have fallen out.
I am fruitless in the weeping for a savior,
for a bud.
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