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To be forgotten or to forget
creates a cloudless sky.

No arctic pack can betray
its omnipotent howl.
Howls, both dark and good, do betray a few.

I see with a clarity of blindness,
as ‘one minute ago’ in itself
isn’t a fresh memory.

Neither is the wall, constantly tapping
its own temple;
the constant of which, contradicted by the very familiar seconds

which are now either left behind or still unknown –
a prominent plan.

I know, parts of me always remain scattered
in the past and the future
of a CD playback.

My amplitude is from fall to rise to fall.

I exist,

as I don’t fear the fear, not to

and fear, if I do, forever.


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