and so

we live

reducing our childhood memories dehydrated from

real into granules that scrape the dead skin off

our faces so that we become smooth as pebbles

rolling on a wave-washed tide and we forget

like the intense colour washed into a universal grey

like feelings numbed into just another day like

feeling that everything was always going to be okay

we live

within a mist of ambiguity colliding into neutrality

being nothing and everything being something

completely lost within a lack of passion as its cost we are

that sacrifice when time collides with hope and loses

dreams only to dream sharp glass that test our veins

and travels in a realm of pain that rests our 

anger from our planes that heal the dreams within matt ground

a subtle sturdy stagnant sound this is the truth that

concrete paper the pen that writes to all the haters the

zen that finds one wiser later the real stagnant stillness 



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