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Octobris IV

If the rope dug itself into your head and managed to wrap itself around your brains so tightly that you slipped into another world altogether and floated downstream to the beach, in decay, then I say the heart became a pipe and the baby became a broom.  We let ourselves destroy the sacred until there was no more room to lose.   If the vanishing act has become routine, we have normalized this violence and we are numb to the world. 

I choose to believe we can still feel and that the rope that sawed itself into your head is somehow going to become a redemptive refrain for us to shift the paradigm.