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wilderness of the soul I. open the winding way the doorway to the parlay of innocence bury yourself there behind the debris dicarded bits of skull and bone and brain matter II. smell the wafting currents of a burning obduracy and pass away into the mad tragedy of routinely adjusted slaughterhouses a train blows the whistle like a reverberating shell such noise here is beyond comprehension a long ride in a vacant hole III. Save the day the day of the dawn and remember the tale of timeless wells the stroke of the mind softening the setting for blood sacrifices and balmy ritual The kind that all of us must endure with the hot craggy breath of age IV. a spell is playing with the light entering your eyes the day is falling into unconscious salutations in your dreams you want to wash away the imagery and make sure the doors all close the mask of night is pulling you back from life breathing into the shadows the mist of a cloudy ruefulness V. you are wandering through the empty sockets where eyes had once been feeling your way in the emptiness a lost child alone and helpless a vagueness is circling like angels disappearing in clouds VI. the wilderness of the soul is all around you swarming like the autumn fingernails of a glimpsed fairy tale foreshadowing the inevitable breaking of a misunderstood role-empowerment ghosts are clinging to your ears a haunting trembles in your mouth your gut is hanging into space VII. an immense and heavy hammer is pounding its way through trying to get out the day is fading the day of the dawn memories are cast in the footprints of watery timetables you are passing the winding way blessed mosquitos now ring in your ears the sound of fury again |
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