I found my wits end
Like a wick at the end of a candle
Dying embers
Refining my latest scandal
To be remembered
As I become dismantled
wit
Doubt
Kissing smoke
With blue breath
As the moist air
Steals us from death
Mumbling with doubt
Replenished with that quivering lip
Biting back feverish wit
Lest we say the wrong thing
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