Enough! Already it flows into a yearless stream. We stand on fortress bricks: remnants that cage the world. The terraces frown like an urban moat, but cars, like dreams, elide into tar-sown rivers, leading nowhere, but moving to the beat of an urgent tune.
The collapse of days, bound by the thoughts of a faraway field, where children once stood. The threads of meaning that bind the tightropes to a web of dreams, hissing in the background, like a modern prayer.
I was electric against the fence, epistemic against the mud, metaphysic against the wind, representationalist against illusion, hedonistic against material form; my bloodless will flows out, flows into the last springs of untapped memory.
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