infinity is here
always shows its face
never tells truth
it lies in form
and prays to itself
in tongues of cement
and slate
its eyes are perfect
and speaks in sentences
circular and worn elements
it is peak dream sleep
death in drag
a slur silent whisper
in the crux of high noon
a back door
windows of steel curtains
pretending not to see
a unmeasured walk
into the between
emergent as a hand
touching to ashes
of life and chorus
where time is the
bastard child of man
and humans sleep
as they walk the length
of the every moment

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