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Yet Unto The Doorways Taper

to never walk againe thee olde visage hallway, left to dust the past equates to nothingness


writhing in the tomb, all of history built into a library and every book with the same word


inside, not to mention the glowing wormhole where once a world was so devised to fall


that secret catch, that illusive leveled head, left it beneath the first book i pulled off the shelf

the one i cannot open now, the one and a world awaiting in an artists brush, nought could

this is barely to be considered reading now when the computer allows the mind to type itself


creating a vast ocean of epiphany and second hand death, the mirror image of the mask

it laughs, though i know the fiend, the wicked fiend within, the exclamation point is the true


warning not to question again, fall so easily does the hat down tripping spiraled stairs, the

apple tossed into the air and before it lands the leaf shot straight through, by who, next to

whom, may the future conspire as an arrow shot straight from the beginning of the trail


to the end of the hallway, would have to walk through immensities torturous history just a


just check the marksmanship of the quivering hand, dost it hit the leaf, or, old boy, the stem.

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