What Would They Say
There is no one left for explana-tion…
They are all gone,
The violent end has come…
Revving up since realization,
Of the abstract.
NO,
NO,
NO,
NO,
Hope. Another one-
Love, yet another-
Space well there’s a fact.
So how do we…decide?
On the dot of midnight demised.
Quasar, no, galaxy
Red-blue. Maybe the work of a gypsy.
AGGressive-ly dealt with-
In order to paint wilted whispers.
Van Gogh would be proud!
Of this wonder we allowed to be unplowed-
Ab st ract. Abst raction.
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