lighter clicks
the paper crinkles
into delirium
the roads and streets and airports
all breathe their last breath
and take the step into Nothing.
the maps burn in a pile
and out of the ashes floats
Fate, into the hands of the Lost
and he runs with it
looking, not forward, not behind,
not at where he is now.
but his eyes are open.
the cavernous green-blue shallows
are swallowed
by swells of you
rushed into me
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