Hello…
I wonder if the cycle is complete
Whether the act has meaning
How much of the routine is real?
An extension of quiet indulgence
Without any obvious scenes
The motions of something bigger
Than just you and me.
Wretched longing what do I feel
More refreshing disillusion
In which to steep intent
Here where the moon shines in a glass.
The left foot is amid the living
And the right waltzes with death
As I straddle the void
While the system rapes me.
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