A worrying red star glued to the sky
I met the convict on the mire
Together, we passed time skimming a handful of Irish Bibles
Across a Tiber tired of tribunes, tithes, troopers, Trojans, and triremes.
The wished-dry swimming pool of my veins at capacity on a Friday
My timered life a poorly poured fried egg.
Alchemisland 
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