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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Monday, June 23, 2014


Grim greenness grows
Like poisonous algae,
Wet slippery guilt
Grips and holds on,
Fear of letting go
Surrounds and drowns,
Sincerity rocks music
Into stillness,
Spiked heads of doubt
Lift up and stare
Blank like the absolute,
Vacuum rushes in
Every time wings spread.
Unwavering consistency
Is malicious like Fate,
Fight it to the finish
Give up.

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