Strands
Every line and every image in this writing carries the glimpse of prophetic death at the moment of conception.
They asked for sameness, they will be given smoothness.
Mirrors collapse multiple reflections into one. It is here that dead ends finish.There are no more songs. Write your own death.
Become a criminal, in order to steal existence from the world.
Reconstruct and internalize the order of the dream world; impose it onto the awakened world.
The fall from wave to wave, current to current, in a disencumbered sea...
...to want only the end of things...
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