Constant cycle
Shifting, so inhibited.
No change in pace.
Striking that black
Mark on
Each
And
Every
Last
Second
And driving me
to my
Last wits.
Mocking,
long spider like digits
Chanting
in the same foreign rhythm
Over
And over
Awakening
the beast in me.
The Painful, Yet Existent Persistence of Time
- seditious's blog
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