//Beyond//
I do sit to write upmy future
with a few strokes on the white
and over leaf
where you always descend upon
as a distorting image
questioning a faith
over mind
over matter
over the year long exercise
over an image
I’m n’t able to draw as mine
you always
crawl at my faithful essence.
then my clock tickles
in your throbbing heart
sickening whatever
as my tranquility
I don’t rely on my words
Which once promised me a pyramid?
I don’t rely on my pen or my fingers
Who always drag me towards you.
Are they all made to serve you?
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