Today, the knuckles of a tattooed waiter read 

The same word from my thought unsaid.

Yesterday, every parcel of the wind chime I rang 

fell apart over and over again.


Visions of my future 

where by a slight I fathome 

Visions of myself 

As a formless phantom


Gravitating through

a vague and vapid territory

Drawn by the pull of the promise:

The other side is waiting for me 




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