The weary ones walk backward
into themselves
Not evil, in itself but when combined
with a mind
d.e.a.d set on bringing down the whole
fucking
circus
When it’s just a little too
When you’ve taken one look too many the eyes
the eyes can almost
see
All of fortune
All your antiquity has assumed
perched itself at the window of your castle, your tower
of isolation........ .......... and fear
And histories come, too, to prove that nothing
shifts but
nothing but
maybe the weather.
Circles going
everything comes round again.
Mostly, it depends on which side you spoon your soup from
how the pickup
sticks
will
tumble and
cross
each------other
I only wish I were so brave as you
You, beetle you, escarabajo
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