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I chase after melted prisms of ether. A glorious sunset where terra mollifies the cosmos.
I want to be part of it, I belong in the big picture, melted into the sunset like a big stick on the blazing pavement.

Bouts of binding exile only feed my ravenous cravings for the stinging lulls of white noise.
This naive rawness is sequestered at the heels of an iris.
It shall fade through a poisoned cocoon.

I am bled into an estranged abyssal.
I can’t help but feel suspended by all this ludicrous gab that is falling from the heavens.
Breed me into seven billion light-years of pseudo-camaraderie.


The notion of escape is to no avail.



This isn’t a predetermined front. I am infatuated with showers of golden laughter. Consider the hairpin turn where treefinger lingers.

Cups of cold coffee,
abandoned cardboard houses,
broken glass,
the freeway overpass,
unsheathe your knives.





You’ve got to help yourself.





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