Wordless god scales the cityscape.  Huge in mind. The cackle of good humor, swells in the scathing heat. Coursing through the night. This voluntary motive sees all. Sees nothing in it’s entirety. The expanse of such words culminates the non sense. Fiction and non fiction interlace each word. Being. Existing as it’s complexities define the words. As there are no book ends to dress the pages of time. Its meaning’s binding sewn by the memories of your skin against mine. Only dabbling in the philosophy of abstract notions are we able to see the river’s pink glaze juxtaposed with the sun’s milk.


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