Lips blue from freezing rain, an icy deluge which pools at the end of rivulets and erodes holes in my cheeks—another storm of passion survived, another labyrinth escaped—I, a deadman, now know the name of peace:asilentinfinity.png

                                                                                                                                  exhaustion.

      In whisperswinding.pngto a heat death, in the beauty of a bluegod—a god whose realm is The Tundra of  “Forgotten”— hear the profound silence of a noisy universe emptied, that universe I am, the sound of the “has been” which is silence and which is presence in absence, that implied viod—the rush of cessation.

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