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INDIGO TOO

blue sky
so blue
every vein in
my brain bursts

until the Universe
is like shot with a
red filter is
like Doppler receding

my hair
my life
red shifting out
of nowhere

and I do love
spontaneous combustion
creation
ex nihilo
(my ex is
a nihilist
after me
she became a nihilist)

but deus ex machina that
almost my logical
definition not
my true love

the idea that the Universe
(slime-ball it sometimes is)
should contrive to
send down a chariot
teleport, use the
Led Zeppelin escalator

to save some golden god-Emperor
whose life is all
about

reflecting the light

save him from crude
poetic justice, rewrite
his history airbrushing all flaws

this after caught flagrante delicto
in act of
swearing my
true love into
absolute self-slavery and
sexual submission

until she is but a discarded, blissful shell
of a character,
item of convenience

sacrifice most divine
(echo with me
always: her last delicious
licking of lips)

blue sky then
lots of cool blues to choose from
ice to cerulean
turquoise, indigo too

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