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Quiver
In your eyes, a maelstrom,
yet how your pupils
warm.
I soak in this dichotomy
and wallow in the
scruple
of my coming move...
…Or lack thereof:
should Time have arrived
a bit above
this bottom?
Because the future quivers
at the icy grip
of Retrospect
and often stumbles
when the choke’s released.
A memory in making
castrated
by a memory once made..
