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I enjoy art when it seeks to decieve
Insists it is one thing, but is truly many
Lines between lines before eyes that might see
But how's one to know that which they can't percieve?

~

Like plastic, perspective's a malleable thing
And valuable, in that it allows noticing
That which evaded one's understanding
Spawns wor[l]ds between wor[l]ds between wor[l]ds in between

~

Letters are but garble to those who don't read
(Who's ranks counted We, in days now relieved)
And symbolic meaning takes seeking as feed

~[shades all throughout our cavern]~

~
~[spark]~


~[flare]~


~[flicker]~





~[and recede]~
Betrothed
to the moment
Estranged from
the future
Present
to marry
All time
— an affaire

(Dreamsleep: April, 2025)
I've never been great at video games
And yet, I enjoy their structured frames
As seasons do shift, so do tactics change
While golden-most roads are, too, rearranged

~

With each Season's pass, so do our moves alter
Both on the screen and in worlds writ larger
What once served us well, in time, does falter
And thus, change, itself, is the only path offered

~

Regardless of want, the world does not wait
The pendulum swings between love and hate
And it currently seems that the latter's at gate
So, please, think ahead of your future win-state
It'd be a waste to next wake in an earth-inlaid crate
An emptiness grows
As I watch the world burning.
I wish man was good.
Can you feel my heartbeat still?

It was only a waste

If it wasn't for you.
Are we truly only beauteous when we gaze upon the same?

Does a force then oust its element when estranged from former names?

What, at root, is virtue most true, if not the definitive game?
I'd wager my stake on indefinence, regardless of the claim
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