all at once and all the time

by mistersoto

once it had been done
the poem
he’d written
from it’s centre
working it’s own way out
to the edges
like a map extending
of love and exit routes
escaping along
thinning roads
expanding
like a blot
telling him
it happens all at once
and all the time
once inscribed on an inner wall
he saw it written again
standing outside of it
once it had been done

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