some slight semblance of god
out there on the horizon
in cloud patterns and maneuverings
and things lost in translation
out there on the horizon
there’s a familiar sense of mutation
and things lost in translation
behind the eye of the beholder
there’s a familiar sense of mutation
in every chosen disobedience
behind the eye of the beholder
swells malignancy and comfort
in every chosen disobedience
in every dissident’s configuration
swells malignancy and comfort
and some semblance of a god
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