Imaginary forces swirl.
The strange fortress of red mixed
with green, white -
total tips, silent bells.
Twin guards, side door.

The sound permeates the air
like a rough sword.
Total copies, not alike,
different somewhat.
Many figures unfolding
in front, but not for
the folds of smell
mixed with the
smoke of cigarettes.

But what’s the point?

by Mattheus Lee

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