All of my metaphors are real

Does it depend on if you’ve scene it? Do you see the whirl wind around me? Or just another god damned hole in the ground, another mind for your quarry?

Here is where i stand. I’ve got a blade in my chest and my blood spilled by no one’s hand. Its okay, there is no silver nor gold, only falling flakes of blackened sky.

As i write of ruin, the world looks all right, dont worry. My anxious heart is rueing my fixation on fixing what is not broken, only bent. My fixed fixedness does not know how to relent.

4/1 four times one, the fourscore foreground foundations are forced to conform to the figure preformed by will of the force.

The square, the rigid and structured oppositional shape. 90° angles all equal in length. Cubic structures, I’ve been crystallised. But i am but kimberlite, mine me open and take whats inside.

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