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What I Was Even Thinking About

just about one thousand moments of time collected like sand invented by diamonds

in each one, time, and in every time, more sand falls through like light, evermore it

what side was that diamond on anyway wast it the top or bottom of the pyramid in

which the lake exists or twas it the shore of the crashing waves for to feel the wind

all things can be made abyssinial through slow enchantment by the forest of chimes

mid winter was just a moment gone by and by the stream still consciousness alone

but only in the mind dost the scene arise newly aligned with each light, inspiration

what dost thou want pulling at the masks down hue like paintings pastel sereated

a heart string lettre written enveloping evermoreso devilish meandering through

the forest of chime like silver trees hanging glass the webs of Death between all

skulls made ceramic home, who shall be thy slave tonight, and whom is it who plays

Life, or what it was, was thy asleep at the thought of the touch of the wings of she

and who it is to be, wherefore unto the reach, twas never a heart to be so weak we're

thee itself to see such a summer sinful, twas' almost like I knew thee once before,

it is thee, this whirling madness invoked within, yet could it be like the each the same

before the question was asked the answer was awakened within, I could explain each

one specifically and how, if i tried hard enough to see, too blind to believe and far too

far away from me dost thou breathe deeply is it I that thee remember, couldst so be just

another apple falling from the branches of a golden tree amongst the frosty lay, snow

moon empresses snow angels play wherefore art thou darling and for what is it thee live

problem is, I've never known an answer to the easiest of tests, always has been cheating

Masked on three, two, one and the hallways shut door open throat behind the mirrored

Face, where all unto I relates one and the same infinities eternal returning, memoirs of

a lucid drop downfalls from once being suspended upon the grassleaf in the garden of

epiphany where flowers eat the tears fed like mercury by wailing entropy inverted grail

stone in the cave of shadows hidden eyes fire light walking on water gliding by and by

barely pressed the pages of the flower plucked freshly from romantics touch of Love

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