That Alien Throb

The waves pulse,
Those salty tears,

The neon maps
Of lands and veins,

That alien throb,
Jaw softly locked;

Late night incantations,
Heightened through haunting,

A yesterday clutched,
A soon bled with colour,

The thrill of stuttered yawns,
And those great, wild intentions

That just rested asleep.

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