BUS RIDE

Ink christened, my hands wield once
again sinewed patterns from the shallows
of my paper head. And my papyrus eyes
unfan a golden ring about everything

Outside this platelet I am within
humtrapped god's poison bell slowly
dissolves over the passing pastures,
twinning the most perfect machines
over reservoirs of antidote

The care with which I build
my apathy towards your comprehension
outstaggers the crushed diamonds
of your eyes

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