This is for when the radio is broken and crackles like uranium orchids
This is for when the fohn-wind rattles the telegraph like a handful of bones
This is for when dream ambulances skitter through the streets at midnight
This is for when you get caught in a sleep-riot and the sky is out of order
This is for when you sex is full of voodoo
This is for when your clothes are imaginary
This is for when your flesh creeps and never comes back

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