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Confetti Beams
a hundred hours 'til disillusion
we count confetti beams
and write odes to open eyes
a hundred steps from intution
we eat what's left to say
and put our hopes in other lives
if this is not prelude to destruction
then one of those answers
must be "I'll follow you anywhere"
but I swear I've read every one
and surely I'd remember if
a sentence could wring ecstasy from air
a hundred miles of syncopation
we wave to factories
and manufacture grace
a hundred strategies run from that first touch to sleep
but we've stayed invulnerable
and so never reached one place
so here on the brink of dissolution
we count nostalgia points
and write the totals on the wall
we didn't come for this
this desperate accounting dream
but the hardest part is saying anything at all
a dozen seconds 'til the end of this
I forget everything and reach for the phone to call
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