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Bound
Sand worn and sun parched,
The body lay like carrion
Bound in the Caucasus
By rusted shackles.
The sacrifice, the visceral remains
Guised in acumen
Lay burnt upon the ground.
Babel
Petrified idioms burn like salt
In the mouths of the young.
Spat into the air,
They tumble to the floor like lies.
The night bled into them,
Hiding their twisted forms.
There is no common language for us
With which to communicate. There is
But one thing.
Austin Hannigan
Email: Austin Hannigan
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