A distinct but abstract attributive point of nadir
is a faultline,
the crack in the teacup,
the metaphysical wasteland
the point of address
open to the skies
where the water and the gold falls to
where all the holes touch ground
with their silver toes
with their insular woes
this is where
the atrocity is
where the abomination
presently exists
where the truth
has its place
where every intellect must collect
to make its point.
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