The thought that you aren't.
Transfixed
in this nowhere place
where time is stationary.
Because you have made it so.
A single point.
And how you along the way
have simply become
the observer.
With a thought
singular
consuming.
Not that you are.
Not any more.
No.
This time one which says
you
have ceased to be.
Saturday, 4 August 2012
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