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Fantasy? +arising from Memory, blackness. Fantasy? +arising from Memory, in Free Verse
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let me go...
what's the benefit of change?
At exactly 5:34 a.m.,
there's still a vigor in me.
, shrouded by the bedsheets
under the core of a darkened sky;
the rims dipped in a slight gold.
the conscience is a precious and mighty dictator.
the eyes are shut,
the doors are shut,
the hands are shut,
the flight to a drunk crossover between fantasy and memory has begun.
there's an intoxicated sliver of love
standing as the smoking building downs,
there's a ceiling of pulsing veins
pumping the necessities of like through them, the misery and vivaciousness;
I've divorced logic.
Lust has been my lover;
I see undoubtedley that my intentions and affections were pure,