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My pulse
is a maelstrom of allegiant campaign corpses
reaming my consciousness
with riveting, florid sky paintings,
raging the moment
in a lava of questions
for which the answers
are on a translucent message board
that vaporizes
from thought to thought
like a slide show.
I drink
the inevitable, pliant elixir
of stunning, visionary hearthstone
epiphany flames,
casting shadows
upon sunset lullabies
that make cradles
out of one’s
dreams.
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