The day I stopped wanting by shedding my soul,
I saw my heart slip though a blood-red hole;
with Voodoo, I blew out the last burning light,
‘till there wasn’t a teardrop or smile left in sight.
The saviors relieved, the cannibals thrilled,
the world sprang to life as my beating heart stilled,
and Absence embraced my inanimate grace
as an icon of impotence finding its place.
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