• f o r t y - o n e • Marble Moving

Without warning, my siren shrieks,
A danger to my untimely peak,
Trudge, slow softly I speak,
I know nothing of this world.

I know nothing of this world.

On this marble moving eyeglass

I strain my legs to open perception
A delicate bleeding of accepting,

That god is in my particles.

Whether real

Or mythical.

He is in me,

Like a plague.

The End

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