Empty.
I sit with you
on this worn down couch
that has become our pew.
Vile venom and vitriol
from our mouths we spew
feeding the fires in my belly
my hatred of you.
Like falcons locked in coitus
we plummet
aching---yearning
for the ground below us.
In the dying light,
of our dying day
the rooster crows.
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