Thoughts bubble
outside the head.
Drowned in hate.
Drowned in paint.
With palms beaten
into submission
by years of grasping
nothing but thin air
I gesture:
Some memories
are enemies.
Some animals.
Some kings.
Dripping silently
inside the skull,
the worlds histories
stand proud.
Lacking repetition,
they point:
Follow the birth
of fireworks!
Follow the death
of fireflies!
Celestial Madness.
Celestial Sadness.
Ever changing faces
of the coin-god.
Hesitant, I watch
as everything disappears.
Behind me,
Someone else
is watching as well,
my slow disappearance.
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