Thursday 11 March 2010

Ovation

just like we think
correction confectionary glances dancing
under limitless skylit sanctuaries
clapping our hands until they bleed

reflection fractions standing obeying
above scarce pothole mortuaries
rubbing our laps until they burn

rejection strengthens hopeless hope
into real wormhole stationaries
writing everything down in silenthand

conception fills wondering minds
with stable wholesome obituaries
whispering the secrets outloud... digitally...


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