driftless dolls
dangling
from places
of inauspice
slaves
to the vortices
and heaven’s hollow void
disparity imploding
by the dire dearth
of devices insidious
insatiably sedulous
do they suffer so
and how
the stoic will stumble
into streams of yore
and yet
we are
Max, or Not 
Sounds very grim, this portrait you’d managed to paint with the words you wrote…
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Wow!
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my God how I love your wordsmithing my friend. Excellent
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