Wednesday, 29 June 2011


your caught back, in the very back of some net
that begot all you were too willing to forget,
too many squandered moments of divinity,
were you to have had the key to all religions
resting, nonchalantly in the palm of some bowl,
you would have stubbed it like a cigarette.
There is no truth greater than the truth
that we don't know, there is no rage that
pours out like a thick gas rolling from a beaker.

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