stale heat and old water we’re living the dream, salted and cured the treatments they cost, but the meat gets pure wet-felted hearts beat an itchy tempo the noise uncovered showing our terrors pushing them deeper inside where we dream of them every night there is no evidence we have no proof but the pulse and the sweat and the salt and the meat the fear is engaging it takes up our time it steals our thoughts and ruins our posture it takes up our breath and the sight and the day it takes up the night and it drives us away where would we be unsalted, uncured tenderness costs and there’s none in here BY MAlKAh dUpRIx
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