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January 2, 2011
Parenthetically divided

and compartmentalized in

a dance for the duration

of my dream to extract a

sublime melancholia by

design, horribly beautiful,

singular multiplicities

berating the source core

off its trajectory call to

my woman inside the man inside

the woman crouching in a sweat,

bleeding out her chances

at befouling the benefits I enjoy

being nothing still for survivals'

irony and shadow; taken to the

task to end the beginning of the

sexual confusions, what swilled

honey mind conveys the true

music of the heart on a platitude

where nothing coheres, colludes

or cohabitates but by force of

necessity's cruel joke on the dream