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A Photograph Of The Past

Eventually the consciousness giving in to shuttered paradigms from broken mirrors

Recorded in a pyre, the screaming spines of emptiness alight the setting of the table

Crushed into diamonds just to see the light stitching of the seams of the mistress

Seferate thyself from incongeuences masking indifference about all the things

Said within forgotten about a number of lines written for the mind speaking

Serendipity, twas surrounded on all sides, I swear it twas a dove, the wings just

Freshly broken, yet, shattered they remain nought, and nought does it take to

Remove each word floating by & by to shine beneath the summer's sun dry like

Undressed the wound a thousand and it is the one time you fall to never return

Indifference, it is what hurts the best guest of the dinner vest, stopped watch

The silver pressed, all the gold in the pockets oft melt into various objections

See in each time the face reflected, revolted, revolutions of time's endearvour

See in each mind the same time reversed by the hand finger stretched down to

Seconds, all the sand collapsed from the hourglass held in the palm frond tied

Creations footprint in the mud filled to the overflowing brim with blood from the

Rainfall from the heart held in the hand above the precipice of nothingness deep

Deeper than the vast abyss of blackness flowing, quickly, it spirals within the third

Eyes reaching like the light projecting from the whirlpool inside each the oracles

Five closed clasps of the diary beneath the candle still beneath the window frame

Forever just to escape moving in star patterns revolving round and round Death

I couldst almost remember all the questions spinning spinning spinning in a

Garden revolting to the art each the dead colours drained just by the memory

Why it twas by the time the hour pressed on between the pages of a poem

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