Candid Pessimist
tell me, how does one see pastthe incumbent colossus of dreadreflected on the lens of the camera,blackened with remembrance of the present,its thick and deceitful frame tell me, how does one carry one’s body from a distance,my psyche scurrying ghostlike onconcrete pavements in remission:I cannot hold hands with the worldfor I come hand in hand with myself shall I set
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