Monday, October 23, 2017

Dr. Tyrell’s Death

Either this cosmos is real
And wicked enough to be
Worthy of immolation,
Or it is phony,

A kind of bubble
Blown on who knows what backdrop,
And worthy of ridicule,
Abandonment, ignoring,

I can’t decide which.
I’m not real myself,
Phrases pretending

To be me, saying
Yes, you could go, but
You won’t make it home.

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