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im waiting, watching the whispering clock,
with its little hands pointing what time it is not.
to an anomaly, the point that’s between
the past and the future that’s never seen.

that can never be. it’s just a dream,
a man-made myth, long-suffering.
paths can’t be chosen. they’re frozen to be,
your plans and demands all mean nothing.

scream against your bonds, it’s an oddity,
for life is a line toward tragedy,
a trainwreck, that is, humanity,
with its temporal joys in fallacies.

-m.p. 03/18/2015

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