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Verse XIII (B)

in visions vast forgotten bliss all things moving go emptiness all things empty through suffer

all is blacknesses deeper black blood drawn for the madness of bloody thoughts thinking as

if blood drops from black clouds black blood into a black clowns black tongue drip the drops

of nothingness of endless engulfment in black flames the black light black again the blackest

stream drawn symphony synthesized for alchemy drawing back the mindless belief that all is

blacknesses epiphany my shadow speaking riddling things my mind grasped for grass when

falling for wind like standing at the edge of the precipice for the world to spin cloud-like in

spaces few and far between inverting what is a brain once was diamond sands crushing align

and find thyself a dead man more deader than a death's head more questions then answers

more answers re-imagined more lost than fountains liquid gold sitting on the ledge of the

precipice with feet swinging lost in the black drip that dropped from the black clouds above

the labyrinth suspended in mid airs drift at once and the same time looking in the reflection

of the face in the mirror white porcelain touching nought once the fires held at a distance

away in the missing light from candle's wick barely ignited the surface of the table's place

shadow within caught staring at the reflected face from the mirrors reflective surface for

two eyes hollow in both directions all follow and turn all gears complete the halt and step

all a distance in the desert sand all a long lost friend all two shaking hands for the basket

at the knees of the crowned prince hung on the wall just waiting for a slipped kiss for lips

whom speak nought but madnesses dripping drop from the inverted black clouds laughing

it off sky blue sky with white smoke from pipes whiddeld with clenched teeth biting trees to

find the soul bleeds sugary sweet to be set free from roots dug deep in stone breaking bone

the best laid plans of men like mice traps of clouds from heavens devised by mind's self to

torturous spiritual ligments ripping at the muscles for release like veins bulging trying snake

like to devour the lucid mind because all things lost within find all things without meaning or

for morals device mortally inclined to die and find all things disappear before ever there was

an I and in the basket the whirlling madnesses a diamond from the eggshell gold serpent

venom from reflective black scales weighing true and false each side the weight of time lost

more lost to time than time's clock, the hourglass, then, each half spinning majestic from top

left to right, from bottom right to left, and back and forth forever again and again and again

and when it is that something is known is something that is it what for whom and for nothing

and for all that could have been and for all that truly is a joust within just fencing the spider

legs with eight hands tied behind the back and still losing sand dwindling diamonds erasing

songs fainting paint drip from walls portrait framed for a dove and wings torn off before the

feather was stolen to write with ink quills black liquid drop from rainbows falling cloudless

sky the eyes in the incalcuable realm drifting into jeweled scripts of golden fires round the

corpses dancing endless shadow reaches for the apple of the plucked brain from the angle

of the reflective diamonds face to taste the liquid earth's caught tear from spider's poison

hourglass brought to hell's heaven and found blood covering the ice laid pond palm frond

dropped and cutting the foot of the walking gypsy through deserts wrought of broken glass

for sand leaving prints in red for death walks with one round the mountain strings pulling

deep within for tuning's grand piano wrenching the mind for trees hollow eyes to find each

one contains another shadow one more dance for the wicked fiend, you fiend, one more

eyeless blind mans weep one more skull cracks whipping tooth pulled and caught by silk

spiders threaded needles dead end dull knifes cut deeper when pushed to the limit of

sanity and find thyself more insane find I more lost within the woody grain painting by a

prophetic oracle read in reverse in words falling like rainfalls like leaves fall in the stream

from the child king whistling the tune again holding hands with death beneath a golden

tree for winter's grey sun for sound and moon for weight skipping tongue ran too far away

i used the search bar just this once because i completely forgot where i was, were we are

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