all effort becomes a long list written over different leafs /
resist lists, they only count down to death conveniently /
ideal for actuaries assigned to the case and those dividing /
eternity into tasks and strikethroughs that revolutions ignore /
measure universes with shovelfuls, disturbing dirt tucked neatly like a bed /
swing the shovel through the air until it whistles and breaks the bone shop window /
there is a continuous rhythm in the coloured shards blinking in the mid year sun
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