Word Play

Bus bench, waiting.

Another penny in the Mason Jar,

fold your secret map and safely hide within your future.

eliminate the editors and proclaim your mountain,

where truth ran dry years before.


victory has it's ending

but it begins with an ascending

rectangular capsule full of transients

who have long waited for departure,

it is you who knows whats made of stone

can be crushed and turned to water,


you board upon arrival,

and you sit down with a smile

the road will take forever

Now your thirst must wait til later

you close your eyes and you swallow

the invisble

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