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Chasing Red Rabbits
Thinking that if I cannot die unto myself then I am already dead....
Predestined this book; never wishing to assimilate within a world
Marching through the streets these dreams; chasing white rabbits
Wearing golden crowns; resuscitating, Alice amid her wonderland
One million years aside this prehistoric state; shelter love's child....
Left colouring their own heart's truths; opacity, claim them not in
Banners which rise then shout while tossing fallacious hierocracy
All about and into the volcano such sacrifice; transudations blood
Stretching ever forth it's hands unto the zenith of ironies cultigen
Soils outside, lexicals window; foreordained afore ancient pages....
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...."Were Torn From Their Eyes * 'The Sower And The Seeds.'"
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