In-finite Loop

grazing edges mark my skin as i slide along the border of my sanity.  insomniac motion mediates this recollection of stimuli as i break the usual pieces in a different pattern. frantic commotion mediates this uneasy stressful feng shui as i fall expectedly yet out of synchronicity with this pseudo world of mine… under this finite sky i spiral soaked in rain, burned in sun rays or tasting shades of rainbow, not always knowing which… with the underwater sealing my wounds as it opens deeper into a bottomless space in finite cycle… i travel inside-up-down side on this infinite loop of life & despair & horror in beautiful manic depressive splendor. “We die struggling to get born.” Henry Miller.

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