The glue is drying to dry. 
‘Polls’ down. 
No truth merges within transgression / you well know 
Bad news just jumps in — 

It’s ok. Just punishment 

for obfuscating dual roles in the expectations of time — desultory of us to ‘read’ and re’read’ brutality ritualized, extending to your one body, cancelling all love,

always for the first time beneath too many ceilings.