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The Fitful in the Empire

Thunder rips dreams from sleep.
The fitful heave themselves upon their mattresses.
Lightening sears all eyelids open.
The fitful heave themselves upon their mattresses.
 
The voluminous sweat from the back seeps through bone and flesh.
The sacred sweat from the brow washes away all ease.
The sweet sweat of the loins aches with lost love.
 
The cost of living climbs.
The fitful heave themselves upon their mattresses,
 
as sacrifices for the cost of empire.
The bloody sweat from their hands has dried up.

(2015)

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