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Millennia
Known

2.48
 1
 
 
Interiors decorated with your specially trellised time-share in the coma talking about talking while we are eating our hours cowering at the other end of the ending instant dinners appear to peer in on your peer's open-faced pear sandwich you served yourself to the judgment of the jury like it's your dutiful journey to journey into the unknowable with fiber-optic antennae detecting your pull towards the bygones we left in unground turmeric root we sifted from the sand on your visor setting in sandstone alongside the dinosaur fossils pieced together from the caste you supported while the foundation sunk into the floor of your favorite diner where you eat half your pancakes as daylight breaks across the clouds dancing in agaric rings down chutes of laundered soap bars into the sinister stars of septuplets subsiding ordinarily among the onslaught of slate you run down on your Christmas treadmill in the back of the cart chopping into the rock as your horse pontificates on the cause of your cramps cramped into the black-seat persuasions you argue non-stop about the legacy of your survival because that's what the heart does when the heart beats in unison with the wings of the ultralight motor passing Quetzalcohuātl like the red bull piercing the black muleta you wore like the darkest dyed mullet you braided strands of shredded millennia through your racket-ratchet reaching for us through the wallpaper while the descriptions you've been giving anticipate their departure from the trophy case of four elements making up your old body and sole attribute catches wind of your plans to pounce on postures you posed in for pictures of more loving times drifting passed against the absence of life-giving light giving off that one aroma you smelled upon the birth of your second moth for the evening as you trudge through the entertainment like rude-crude coat the wild outdoorsman in the swamps of misery you meddled in for Millennia seeking what you thought you knew through what you thought you didn't in the labyrinth of the crop-circle highlighting your vulnerabilities with the specie's protection tucked away in the breast pocket of your fleece aggregations cruelly opening your accomplishments as gifts become mountains under the tree you cleaned the snow from flake by flake with the pincers of pie you baked with the oven in your gut you built from crumpled brick piece by piece with transparency for those who were never interested in the sayings you believed in before words were cliche inside the egg of future lives constructing dreams from what you'd never want to be because someone you never knew told you you could not be you in your own way absent of the birth-right that death stamps 'send back to sender' tossing none of your belongings into the back of your darkly beaten pickup where they ride along silently contemplating where they're being taken unsure of the future that awaits them.
 2

9 Feb 17

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