Death is My Neighbor

As a tank, clarity is key,
but there’s no way to get full

on the other side, one yellow
knob sings against some wooden heart

leading to a brick wall.
Tiny doors, stretching toes against

a mountain pass. Too steep is
what they always told her,

but not today, at least, this is what
I heard once, but I don’t recall

if you were the one who told me first…
I don’t want to be the one to feed you

your own advice with the wax frozen
to the mantle, there’s nothing we

can scrape through to get at the core,
voodoo-man says I have no soul to trade.

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