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Industrial Waste
The white stripes sleep inviolably.
No nuclear shock through indolent steel.
A few dozen miles to rest,
covering the stones with temptation of emptiness.
Oxygen echoes in the broken frame.
Someone’s gotta do the cold game.
♠
Outside
I am outside.
Outside.
I am outside.
Left alone.
♠
Conviction’s lost, when the tests will end.
Question of withered investment.
Dazed eyes taste bitter truth of desease;
scarred mirrors excavate old fairytales to freeze.
Inertia rages, beyond the lung.
No recollection when last of the lights had begun.
♠
Alone.
I am alone.
Lonely.
I am lonely.
Left behind.
♠
Numb honour to perceive stillness under the dome.
Someone’s got protection from the wolves coming home.
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