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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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