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mldfnd Jun 3
A cell with a spyglass searching for its blood.
And a tiny cell becomes glass to others. That's king.
It is Him when convenient. Despite what is said.
The glass is never Him. Only for convenience.
Not blood but eosin. Not a noise but You. Not You, never.
Brightly for convenience. Darkly would be contradiction.
Not blood but something you made. This is eosin.
Serves dream and frame and shelf and eosin never Him.
For we rarely ever speak.
Zizaloom Nov 2018
Fall hard low down
Blow
Nose bleeds
Thunder lighting bolt
Eyes fuse in the midst
Of a spectrum
Piercing bleached visions
Spontaneous combustion
Fade to white than
Rot to grey
No use
Eosin paraffin
Beeswax and waxing cream
Falling head over heels
Over pineapple plants
Palm oil is sweet
Sweet is oily too
Touching the last dot
Turning lurching not
Ready to stump
Upon the toes
Of a lilac pissenlit
It flows, transforms! So far away
Come back or turn around
Comme hitting shoulder blades
Or last deflated lungs
Lonesome table
Lonesome trees
Standing crooked
Facing deeds
To be done
Or undone
The rope and tie feet two
Throw up your intestines
And wake up someone new
In or on the floor drowning
Hearing static
Hearing aids
And then never come back

— The End —