his sun-spotted veneer chips ~ toxins bleed out the precipice ~ minuscule interruptions embolden themselves to turn back minute hands ~ and go back for seconds ~ he wakes without synthetics ~ he wakes demurring over vanished dreams ~ and wishes the pain of projecting was easier to bear ~ ancillary existences are diced to dust ~ rearing up like the spray of a cliff-bound wave ~ would it be easier to walk away if there was rift ~ emergency exits ~ third-wave kisses ~ all those existential signs of a hope wrung from the soaking rag of radiant intervention ~ he disavows connection where there is sufficient proof of purpose ~ disassembles complexity ~ splayed into heartscratch hopscotch ~ bouncing vanity reflective of the goal ~ goal he ever martyred ~ goal he's been bartering for ~ for though he sees them oscillate on the soft-focus freeway like emergency lights ~ all he can fight is for someone to hold
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