Exiting arm;nThe pit and alabaster ascension.nnTo cut out the middle mind and dine,nTo dine on the nectar hard,nTo dine on royal oil of arm.nnAnd resign the simple engine of your fears to time…nAnd resign your slight regime to time. nA you immune, nto the gross and grow cold of what you know prose,nWhat your know won’t sow.nnExiting arm;nThe pit and alabaster ascension.nnWhen last we left Hour Hero, Yes;nLeft one part endless-nTwo parts death.nn‘cause it’s tell fright and all lightnTo a soft right angle of good man.nnAnd from one keep to another,nYou left with what you there’s left,nHonest, in a skin-thin armornAnd the wild of guess.nBlood swapped with breathn(Not ghost not dead not)nTo separate yourself from your effectsnAnd to evacuate one’s sturdy flesh.nnWould you skin your skull to draw its strength?nOh no you’re way to goner for that.nWould you swallow a lie to disinfect your angst?nOh no you’re way to goner for that.nWould you razorblade redecorate your arm?nOh no you’re way to goner for that.nWould you freeze a lake shut to steal you (some) calm.nOh no you’re way too far gone…nnExiting arm;nThe pit and alabaster ascension.nnWhen last we left Hour Hero, YesnHe was one part endless;nTwo parts death...