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Where Sphinxes Swim
I'm there. At the mouth of the river where sphinxes swim. Gold and titanium bursts of fire jump out like trout, their meanings beknown to only the slaves and peacekeepers. I tried to catch one, to juice for fish oil and earthly riches. It spat in my face and mumbled something about being a mere mortal before it swam off. I sat and thought for a moment. Does this little speck of life not know of the Christ who lives within? I'm from the pyramid at the end of the block where Gods are formed. The Phoenix and the marbles made love like eagles as they fell from the water pitcher in the sky. The ergot isn't needed to understand, but it certainly has worked for the aesthetics and school girls who follow me from town to town. If you can't afford cranberry juice become one and then bleed. We're all being harvested for something, whether it's wisdom, labor, or sex. Fight through it and you might see me on the other side, fetching pennies for Jesus or flowers for Mary Magdalene.
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