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Anachronisms piling high on memories decayed, 300 days have passed again and here I am, nothing's changed, |
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Burning time, the specters of a past life lived, |
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Another year, to wallow in the bitterness of loss, |
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Recast into this languid mold, |
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Back to a state of Thermidor, |
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Entranced by the reminiscence haunt, |
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But what could have been, now is gone, |
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The detritus of days long past lie shipwrecked 'cross my ocean floor, |
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Where laughing ghosts echo of halcyon days I knew before, |
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Demons breeding demons in my head, |
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Is this how the book of life ends? |
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Dead drunk, dejected and unsung? |
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Left with no purpose but to grieve? |
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And far are the cosmos that twist and unwind, |
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A left-handed path into the black, |
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As youth dissolves quickly and tensions divide, |
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I stand frozen on that day I left, |
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A circumnavigation course, adrift, lost and compromised, |
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Navigating mental seas, balkanized, 28, 23, 17, and 33, each era brands its stigma scar, |
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The stare of Medusa, the death in my eyes, |
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Numbing reflections, from senses deprived... |