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Introduction To The Ground

move, slower, at thy thought the desert still, the forest frozen over

every reflective tree burning in black flames beneath the black sun

spilling black blood into the stream flowing the blood of the ages

swirling the vision of what was once a considerably handsome face

the paint separates in vicious ways first each from every colour torn

from the other all hands reaching once together then each one once

mixed to perfection broken hands breaking sentences complexities

further out past the wake of having a destination anywhere we go yes

there we are again ripped down from the heavens and quicker than I

was there faster than the eye could see what wast it than to be humming

the silent chorus of the silent song next to her I sit and burning trees they

those burning trees burn for infinity in ever shifting form mirrored flames

burning black trees ever shining ever catching light and bending it past

all lucid corners turn themselves round and corrected mind into the hallway

far past the doorway closed the latch locked and the paintings dripping

all reversedly drop rising into remembered instances of memories former

years she stands in front of the doorway with her hand upon the gears and

from the floor the masked face the cloaked wreckage of the ship by the

desert spring it is only a mirage let not the straps fall off one shoulder and

the dress by clasps barely hold tight the ship dear boy hold on into the light

but a mirage it is the desert spring a shimmering in the distance just one more

step away pulling the ship along the sand pulling the strap below the armpit

and the lever shifts the gears in turn the floor lowers the candles burn and the

mechanism begins the floors descend beneath the wood down led down by

chains deeper and deeper the mind erased the face far far far down the stream

barely a finger lifted chin far past the shallow deep into the hollow beneath the

stoned hallway every step invertingly changes as the hourglass turns againe

the diamond falls to the bottom of the abyss and mirrored leaves fall like pieces

of glass shattering as they hit and breaking upon the wooden casket with the

serpentine engraving the devil's bones the mind reawakening all tunneled throws

moving through the explosion forward through the star field of motion all drifting

pasts further passed the break all shattered selves in masks arranged in a tethered

web like diamonds hang like dewdrops before they fall down like the dress falls

beneath the knees ever deeper beneath the floor the black walls rise round the glow

receding of the hallways candle-lighted lay the ceiling vast the emblems play like

cherub children running to chase away the dying flame the pieces fall the mirrored

frame caressed as the artists brush takes to painting the portrait of a little girl just

a moment ago the second to the minute the hour to the missing insanities that

grip the mask only one can remove the spirit then floats headlong as the body

drifts deeper into the nothingness and walking through the blasted prospect of

whom once was there just for a second whom once had touched the concept

of heaven she wraps her victim in silken rope and leaps back to her place by the

stone and with one pressed flower in the book one tug on the hand She next to

Prometheus stands chaining up the legs and wrists and neck with one kiss all in

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