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Infinite A Scene One

by all means one could say it is the first that you do not know and it is the second that you

do think one knows a million instances of captivated play for dolls first it is the one you don't

know children's grin broken wings rainbow bugs and a lantern swinging deep in the darkest

abyss of ancient time there was an instance there once there was a mind captivated by sin

deep it is the darker pit the blackest moonlit basket beneath the frigid nightscape blinded

by the caught feet for traps it is but an instance in the mind of God it is a momentary happen

stance among the forestry of dead hands grappling with mindless dews dropping silver at

the sliver of bamboo beneath the nail and hammered in arch the deck and call it a stupidity

a momentary slip of the tongue wrought iron hot for bolts into the neck with a knife skin

deeper than a pit made for vipers to be in deeper than a trench dug for broken feet whom

walk far too quickly into the non existent discordant disarray of the black light from the gem

it is the second that you do know and whether or not the first exists although who does it

exist for and for what and why art thou so sullen at the sorrowful hand dealt you see it now

you see it is all in a snail's shell it is the game of the table and do you have a chair have you

read the sign post at the crossed roads dare me again to explain the silent orchatsrae enter

the mindless drops of dew falling from the leaf far beyond the mystery is the answer to all

things still in existence of the mindless thought that all is far beyond what the first thought

was and in thinking then find thyself in a deeper grave before minds erased white sheets for

easter's parade better days in the past for some and for some far greater thoughts await

it is all in a snail's shell one chooses which one devised heartless is the mind mindless are

the drops of dewfall in the morning eyes suspended disbelief for the third rite of the black

light be still window sill it was but a candle then it was just too light for wingless men whom

knowest nought the hindrances of toilsome feathered bones in the hollow of an ancient tree

just building time for sand to fall just endless marching on past talking speeches of things

floating round the corpse in the fourth dimension where none is hardly anyone and how

hardly anyone knows a thing about yet it is in which all moving mouths chatter jawbone torn

from the mirage it drifts and floats away against the dawn and dusk of a mindless day cerupt

at the play of words if and only then, if they only, and only they are words playful at the mind

less than thought and more of a reactionary condensed mass confessed for the masses on

awakening to the candle light bleeding through all things indivisible becoming divided all

things decided on by quick the thought carries one away dost it play dost it bask in the

loveliness of ancient divinity, too quickly then, and without a moment to stand upon the

sand falls through the diamond spiraling each grain of sand ignited becoming more than

meaningless light, I think nought, meanings meant to be known by men whom thinkest

thoughts then, and whom do not walk the crooked path, how is it that you could make a

decision without first having surrendered to Death how innocent is the playful paradigm

of children's minds growing into pride and I but the surface of the face of the mirror for

lingering roots to pass through and for a moment there, where, falling quicker than the

sand grains and faster than a leaf falls from the dead tree falling in the silent forest of

punishments aligning mindless skeleton hand raising yet a finger at the surface of the face

of the mirror for an angel's dire cruelty time it takes and space created all things landing

dove all things these wings don't come off easily and to the painfully immortal clock struck

bell tolling at re-growth, to then, cut again, my friend, and be dying for the taste of justice

suffering each step to create blood within the mindless brain for reaching a hand unto each

and every wrong direction one could take seperate and in splitting, melt away, the ice laid

pond calls to all just drowning for a drought but where but where could ever the building

blocks be found offended dagger hand hidden beneath the belt boy scout swastika of the

left hand path arrow shot damsels dress whipping in the golden grain field blue again by

unreality of a realistic dream a dream of unreal dramatic endings, more so than never be

so quick to defend thy own honourable demonic hast thou summoned hast thou been so

summoned then hast thou walked the path of nail born slavery with evermore another hole

in the poisonous head of the spider eating snake of the lost cementary devil's play Satan

creates and godless arms hold nothingness at the vast expanse of life to begin barely met

hardly ever known and far greater mindless thoughts to read upon the captivating glass

tapped for black blood chained for a slave hanged for a theif marked, and in being marked

better bets at the table made for the date white sheets laid a cross the long way knife tray

stapled up and stitched like the spine of the ancient book just fallen from the shelf of magic

heavy the weight is and far more the accuracy of the dagger thrown through undetermined

and ever the moreso underminded backhanded glass eye falls from the grail inverted over

the blood spread through the diamond exploding in slow motion like stars align like lover's

eyes like is this your first time like is this right I never had to and in thinking lost it against the

winding hand above the precipice far beyond space's endless twist knotted at the rope just

thrown over the branch in the enchanted yet forest death walking aimless to find the black

night no light shines where children die being burned alive hardly a moment then and for

ever just a distance away from the pit of vipers spiraling the dance of spider's venom in a

bulging vein my belt still has the stains of a history written in blood, a smiling face, I've never

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