denial luc simonic In this time, here are the things that spread out. The things that move and dip in squalid gangs. These are the things that take five hard years, The tepid glances of a long lost love. A death. Here are the largest tripods of discovery. The greatest man to take a dime from me. Where once ethnicity in heart was, are doldrums, A wrong beat to fish and 7 inches isn't enough. Across these breaks lies the fortune of millenniums, The magnet separating us and our polarities from truth. These are the intentions of children, The lies that form them as we accept our drips. Here are the turned heads, the heads down, The swift walk away as our pretense checks our Watches and shoestrings.