40(ish) days and One thousand Forty-Nine sweaty nights……

40 days and one thousand forty-nine sweaty nights
locked in the gravity
running through the simple insanity
the masquerade
of the numbers finding the pretty book of
implosive thunder and lightning
looking up to the girls that have nothing going on below the hips
and sucking it all up
and spitting out the relatives
nonsense comes in backward forms –
of shallow existences and
smoke and mirrors
swimming in a forum of
truth and relativity
mixed with showing pervasive shared identities –
when sometimes you just need to know
where the illusions are
and disillusionments cease to begin…

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