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Stars falling like burning hailstones. Not one wish formed From the ashes below. Earth stretches and yawns; scratches A continent finally Free from fleas, then Returns to solitaire sleep while Epochs enter into aeons Before the itching Ever so slowly begins again; Species rise to reign in the usual Pre-apocalyptic illusions of Meaning, denying being merely a Planetary slap away from a crushed Stain of the blood it once ****** I never feel as in place and balanced As when my insignificance looks me Dead in the eye. And winks.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Pre-Apocalyptic Illusions
Stars falling like burning hailstones. Not one wish formed From the ashes below. Earth stretches and yawns; scratches A continent finally Free from fleas, then Returns to solitaire sleep while Epochs enter into aeons Before the itching Ever so slowly begins again; Species rise to reign in the usual Pre-apocalyptic illusions of Meaning, denying being merely a Planetary slap away from a crushed Stain of the blood it once ****** I never feel as in place and balanced As when my insignificance looks me Dead in the eye. And winks.
sgholter
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
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