at canon’s jump
there is a laughing echo.
With fingers, With fingers.
There is a crimson hunt
Through the loose leaves and the pages.
For the names.
With fingers
For the names.
There is a laughing echo.
There is a crimson hunt.
At canons jump.
This is a wretched home.
There is a laughing echo.
With fingers
At canons jump
There is a crimson hunt,
For this? Wretched home.
At canon’s jump
The violent teeth
Found the crimson cuticles,
imprisoned fingers.
Let loose,
Let loose.
This home is not for me.
That echo
is the laughing me .
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