In wall-coloured spaces
We write demiurge diaries
Each timepiece defaces
Our self-haunted libraries
As resin encases
The work we have wrought
A rope snapping taut
Passed out on our pages
We′ll know we have fought
But when we sober up
can we please tunnel down
On why we sobered up
never quite hid the frown
When the encoders cut
off all that can′t be said
We will have long been dead
And future people walk
Earths not invented yet
Post-nows to clearly see
Once we dethroned the past
I hope we′ll one day be
Outiconoclassed
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