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Soporific nightmare,
While I wander,
Beckons for me to follow.
Inviting cliff,
Of shattered scribe,
Dismisses my plain apparel.
Where is the escape,
If now is neither here nor there.
If then is just a dream,
Faltering in the dark.
My Nyctophobia,
Claims to be an excuse.
Residing in a subsiding sky,
In a silent ocean,
In the wings of the chrysalis,
Of my fallen butterfly.
co·thur·nus
kōˈTHərnəs/
noun
an elevated style of acting in classical tragic drama.
Where our thoughts end.
Can you imagine it?
A place beyond which there is nothing.
Can you fathom,
Can you fathom, what you can't think.
Will you try?
That notion, that idea,
Of an end.
A false wonderland,
We can not see.
Where infinity ends.
Where I fall of the edge.
Where no one can catch us.
*..........none of us..............
A poem based on a quasi psychological and philosophical theorem I thought up while talking to a friend.

Our thoughts must end somewhere......for we can not think out of the box, since in the end, we can not think what we can not think....if we are thinking it....it isnt outside the box....if we want to think outside the box....we cant......only when you cease to think...does the box dissolve.....granting us....*nirvana*
I found -in the shadow of a
Crane rigged and ready- that
I couldn't help myself.

Took a ladder to the huge sphere
Of chipped and battered iron,  
And threw one leg on either
Side of the chain.

Sang leaning and rocking
Into the walkie talkie
As my foreman spat his
Coffee not to choke; laughing along
With Swedes, Polish, Lithuanians
And Norwegians alike.

Miley. Bringing people
Together.
This familiar road. Same bus
Every morning for
Seven years,
Yet never
Noticed

The oak tree
On that field
Until
Now.

A majestic crown of
Darkest green upon
Wood as solid as
Boats and homes.

Growing as slowly
As it wants.

It can.
You took my joy of life
So can i have my heart back?
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