too much is beautiful, rising the sun,
a world to capture beyond my grasp,
that ruined here watchful with two small friends
all in all motion I cannot understand.
contented wtih warmth and a slight loss of fear,
abandoned my claims to the outer world,
a mass of sepulchres holding within
gather your feelings, take in your arms
suddenly finding them empty on your sides,
holding in bitter, insane laughter --
so fly to your pleasures graven in stone,
I will be watching, outside, alone.
				s.r.p.
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