it's late night time that lasts to propagate
when nothing but some sounds reach to my ears
i gladly will partake in making bait
and blending histories and fusing years
and mixing thoughts as only drugs are mixed
i've tried to fix the thinking binary
of thought and golden silence, intermixed
upon that crude divide of finery
but never could i stride out from that place
without the precondition of my thought
i look outside the window and erase
all prior knowledge, but I still am wrought
for being left with something in my head
no matter how i try to go to bed
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