These corridors fall around the future
loose change to build a castle
The reputation I seek would be a cure
These rooms for rent go fast
Out in the town square Pretending it's not the end
Is my second father with his glad old friends
Toasting the inconsequential nature of it all
friends nod forcing words to rise and fall
coloring the garden cosmos
My false smile goes from confident
To ashamed ninety one million to ninety one cents
Can I project this false version far enough
They laugh though not at me
maybe just the corridor
the chosen trajectory
I force myself to join in the jolly reverence
For a split a second I see the multicolored lining
through my requisite flesh it's shining
Yet the search goes on without reprieve
for the perfect blooming fruit tree
Ripening piece by piece
expanding on the branch
The perfect ship
stocked and reinforced for the ocean
built to float me to that prime destination
where all seas meet
the congruity of it all completion
compliance to each spiritual season
whining and growling
winding and slowing
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