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I teeter on a precipice,
On a mountain peak like a knife,
Then the texture of a fresh snow bank
Decides to meet my face.
I'm so tired my joints creak,
I have no incentive to leave
The white snow that encircles me.
I'll incubate in atrophy without a frown.
My sideways, crooked view of a real sunset
Is replaced by a nonsense vision of a TV critic,
Talking about an episode of Drivel Trek.
Background music by the band Vortex Crowd.
Somewhere naive people discover and learn
How ugly and vicious life can be.
Someone on an errand gets
Foam sprayed in their naked eye.
The velvet pane of the sky errupts with a comet
In a furor that makes me want to creep away.
The bulk of nature seems dangerous,
It's a viable excuse.
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