Lines of dust cascade through
the unsheltered screams
of the closed windows
as I stack my claims
upon the dead stones,
the only insignia that glues us
in the patchwork of jagged shards
clenching onto the blood crust
of yesterdays turned black,
the cacophony of memoirs whizz
on the edges of misshaped reality
to the gray side of the rainbow
digging into the artefacts
of altered perceptions
having nothing to resurface
as I flicker and dissipate
into an interminable quietus.
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