By Royce
5 A few steps from your apartment door, bathed
in lucid porch light amber, I had an epiphany,
a precision of vision not unlike the clarity of
the man on the gallows right as the spring door
pops open and the rope begins to choke.
4 Knowing that yes this is going to happen,
authenticity beginning in wisdom but ending
in a grunt, twisting until lust is asphyxiated
and chests no longer bump into breaths.
3 Fumbling for your keys, like grandma looking
for her puzzle pieces, part of me just wants to
leave and avoid regiments of redundancy.
2 Now just meat abandoned by meat,
communicated by outbursts of apathy.
1 Clothing sheared, only quarks remain.
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