Arc maker for the mystery night,
dusty white player in the void,
evaporating in the eccentricity,
false freedom in the lonely ellipse;
a crude and scarred simple composition,
fragile to the touch of life light,
fleeting bright passes of death life,
exaggerated spells of life death;
an abomination of creation,
by only the innate nonacceptance;
chanced, transverse tiny sparkle from afar,
beheld a shrapnel, too close for comfort;
identical, small, probable, prime,
perfect undisturbing multiplying divisor--
all and then some more, is one;
but a parallel, it is not.
1 comment:
and its always parallel from where i see it... and when the shrapnels, when they hit... they hit together, all!
p.s: that choo chweet was so untypical you!
p.s 2: am so super excited you coming for the wedding!
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