Pillows upon pillows of clouds
Washed of color and hung heavy upon no
Thing, this absence of being
Whose lost life reeks
Of an off-putting, unhygienic religious
Mindlessness
My soul screams for the unbearable violence of pure light
To burn white air through and to
Ashen hearts
Mine especially
Utterly alone before turned eyes
Devastated by the clarity of everything else
Nothing between me
And every sin lying upon me
Smothering
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