I wake up at the altar

where the machine waits

for me to stir

I’m too tired for revolution

my body languages

I stir to mix and finally melt

waxed chewing on my tongue as the house thuds

speakers we call prophets and the real prophets

the machine does not tolerate

to stand together we must live apart

we must break the rules used to break the rules before them

and before them

before me lies

behind me, lies

on my knees I pray to a god whose name I do not know

whose face I cannot recreate or touch

L.A. Mack

Looking to put up raw material here as much as I can going forward and connecting w/yall. Drop a line and thank you for reading.

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