it’s getting harder to get up from the floor

i care less if i die alone or

i’m buried in a potter’s grave,

no matter how honorable that

may be. i prefer my ashes be

thrown into a twister. spread

out like a banquet for the kings.

until then i will play as a boy with

old bones. i have drank spirits

to forget the wars, and shared

enough kisses to replace the

stars in a midnight sky. strip

poker is my religion. the more

i lose the more i am saved.

shenanigans are gifts from the

jack of a sacred heart. i practice

adoration of the joker and the

queen of clubs. i will play as a

boy with old bones.

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