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we don't go anywhere from here.

the rose and the liquid sun,
the vessel that contains
all our thoughts and dreams,
(devouring double headed chimeras)
driven by insatiable engines of greed
we all reek of imagination.
mired in hopeless fear
we are obligated to hurry on.

was that something i saw?
that featherweight essence
the soft cough of the eternal
or am i forming a ghost

some say that silence
lightened their day
but these ears, this mind, this heart
deafen even my fingertips
deaden even my firmest wish
when will we dead awake?

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