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Are we but dream junkies And all the stars that trail, In the gloams of milky ways, But empty islands more for us, Golden archipelagoes, baubles Ringing, rounding out heavens' Wreathing, oceans, nil vastness To fixate upon from whence we Once were, by souls' fashioning, Airy and unrealistic as dear fools' Child-minded convictions, fables, Fetal, in smoky amniotic aethers, Wisps of matter to see unlocked, Unchained from sparks of nothing, Wide eyed as supernovae in voids, As light injects into us such purpose, Imaginations so neatly dreamed upon, Once and for all, stories bound in sleepy Times, or tis more our sole, sun, but one Dim light in all these unsettled sparklings, A tapestry which etches our righting eyes, Into sandy itchings, spiral notches, grains Ticking us eternal to vested lime beds waiting, Are we sunk in drunkeness by the overheaded Skies, fumbling about, numbed, In soul rummages?
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Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
And All The Stars That Trail
Are we but dream junkies And all the stars that trail, In the gloams of milky ways, But empty islands more for us, Golden archipelagoes, baubles Ringing, rounding out heavens' Wreathing, oceans, nil vastness To fixate upon from whence we Once were, by souls' fashioning, Airy and unrealistic as dear fools' Child-minded convictions, fables, Fetal, in smoky amniotic aethers, Wisps of matter to see unlocked, Unchained from sparks of nothing, Wide eyed as supernovae in voids, As light injects into us such purpose, Imaginations so neatly dreamed upon, Once and for all, stories bound in sleepy Times, or tis more our sole, sun, but one Dim light in all these unsettled sparklings, A tapestry which etches our righting eyes, Into sandy itchings, spiral notches, grains Ticking us eternal to vested lime beds waiting, Are we sunk in drunkeness by the overheaded Skies, fumbling about, numbed, In soul rummages?
ormond
Written by
Irish
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
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