***
The Tirtans flooded the culture
wherever you turn you come
across their Sodom’s sniggering
across their hacksaw’s uvular R
sounds, their madness has the
taste
of cyanide, the isolation becomes
depressing and tasteless and the
days
seem absurd as a coffin hanging
from a rotten acacia that shakes.
Their constant preoccupation is
Sodom.
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