I live repetitious in unremarkable routine
and out there, alone in night, my compatriots lie dying.
Take me to where news ceases to travel
and I, in the bliss of the ignorant, will live out my mortal days
satisfied
that the saints of my sinful past
likewise count the stars of heaven without
becoming
them.
The city,
devoid of the burden of my memories,
offers up the bodies of my brethren
instead.
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