..so poets of prophecy
treat these microphones like the Sabbath
where speaking truth is a habit
because we are indeed vessels of god
our lungs are the church
our tongue is tattooed with a sermon
so hot it could melt hell and leave the devil homeless
in our soul is an oven full of blessings
but it feels more like a furnace
I have tasted failure just so I could swallow my purpose.
-An excerpt from Internal Surfaces, Gregory "Just Greg" Corbin
That Last Line Just Does it For Me,
B
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