the belief of shame depends on your belly.
cured from within,
it's soft spoken sanctuary,
exposed the rue-
blinks when blinked at
while the summoner sneaks a smoke break.
these are the days of the Thickener,
swimming in salt.
I'll eat a piece,
when i'm good and ready,
but
the pistachios are burnt, and
I haven't the chips
to fold.
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