He Came Prepared

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Into which the road leads on,
There is struggle
Catching breath
And feet,
Twisted into blue
Static signals.

And the red-yellow books
Containing
Roman numerals of four,
They have arrived
To lay me down
Upon cracked pavement.

Electronic whispers
Of distortion
Devour my eardrums,
Leaving only a single string;
It is in tune with the universe.

There are defracted
Golden walls,
Hanging o'er
Rusting traffic lights.

Yes god,
I can hear you just fine.





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