You and I have to break things down
Into smaller and smaller bites
Until we can't eat any more heart
Until we've stuffed ourselves
With wild venison of roasted
Youth and grief's caviar
Downed with laughter's wine
And we come to our renaissance
Trying to live a Shakespearian life
Keep moving vertically he said
And you will come to a certain
Rose-bush whose thorns
Are stars that prick you
Until you bleed them back
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