Through eyes,
Looped and wonderful,
In mud that cakes,
Sugared and full fat,
Drawn on into every mad
Thought made physical.
Pulled tight and touching;
Rubbing when the
Time calls.
Snapping when only
A breakaway will do.
Absolute and fair
In telling what is what.
These lanes that lap
In leaps are
Oft rigid but forgot.
Pulse thickens and
Thins the threads of old
That twine around a heartbeat,
And in the waking day,
Wet or dry,
The rumbling world is but another feat.

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