it is the less than noble truths
like the ones you see
in mirrors
that reveal the duplicity
the defiance and delight
admonishment and disparity of imagination
so strange the alchemy
the unconscious hierarchy of thought
preternatural
cliché
the memories that brew on the outer edge
illogical yet silently obtuse
crooked branches like gnarled fingers
accused the evening sky
and in a muddy puddle their reflection shakes
signals that unreality
is real
upon reflection
signals that
upon reflection
unreality is real
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