lost in the canyon of parenthesis,
rain’s savor around the corner,
await firm grasp to unbend,
doused memory to elapse.
dream the texture of paper,
and the pretense to exist.

buoyant on mired possibility,
its overflow, undertow,
eddies, whirlpools, and debris;
post-viable histories sail past,
and seek out the common sea.

sit in a café with Winston Smith
and sip the existential mislaid-tea.
no where, to where, nowhere;
uncertain in a prevalent width.

into the ground, into the fire,
no maps parse a sundry path;
no love, no fear, nor desire.

stagnant brook hush this raspy pulp,
slumber doubt, cascade in full gulp.

mirror muse chronicle being nemesis.

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