• a.p. duvall


The truth of the matter is this:

Your memories are ink

Spilled inside a well

Black within black

Poisoning pure

Poisoning for sure

Poised within secrets

That you'd never tell

Drop your bucket in

Drop your locket in

Drop your breath

Your fiendish friends

You memories are ink stains

Spilled upon window panes

Black upon clear

Poisoning pure

Poisoning the world

Pulling your confinement

That'd never end well

Smash the confinements

Smash the realignment

Drop your reason

You’ll find alignment


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