tiny flakes, noise, echoes
you touch as if
and hymns disturb
as bells wake up gods.
it is you in you
and it walks inside and unconsciousness sticks to keep you buried
a lifetime you waste, somewhere without
that you carried the burden of nothingness in apparent objective.
it is an artistic scramble to paint an image in darkness
you love to cherish and so indulge in nakedness of words runny.
incessant contest somewhere
a fluky dispersal
burden of age you know not and still cry meaning
and boast of scribbling an epitaph on stones half chiseled
a great effort to see light at a burial ground
the testimonial of infinity
calling man to hug.
you are not seen here, not at this moment, and maybe it is not in future
forever it is a struggle to exist in non-entity
you sit and tell.
* * * * *
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