Imagining in imaginations in hopes they'd entwine with those of a soul who seeks to reach mine out. Seeks hopefully.
On choppy waters when ships did sail they lost out on some inlet or island, without walking the plank, never asked for a buoy, just jumped ship and disappeared.
A hurting distress arising not from the sudden dematerialization but from the lack of SOS besmirching the skies.
Seeing the frailties of asthenic imaginations I've resorted to dreams to weave a web of minute tendrils infinite wisps of untethered smoky chimerical traps, traveling through dimensions, like invisible termites of metaphorical yearnings to weaken thought walls and bore atomic holes invisible to the naked mind yet existing with a finality, that'd enable a weave of gauzy web of forgotten remembrances to suffuse souls now lost or fallen through between gaps in time and life.
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