Caverns of white obliterate continuity
Rubber snaps resonance back into the soul, eager to convince unconsciousness
Where do these steps lead,
indignant or full of belief?
Hands wrought and worn bear witness, comply, and knead
This ached torpedo forces windows to appear
The chorus beckons likened thoughts
What do you make of it:
- The silence.
- The void.
- The in-between spaces.
Time gathers, lightly
How to once find the orbit as learned again
This searing torpedo won't mistake its guidance
Rippling with indifference where to heal - of expectation! Of worth!
Acquainted with the present,
Stripped from belief
staring out at the auburn canvas
This torpedo is cast open
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