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He disciplines with stories
of black holes and white voids
where his blue-lipped sounds
are always right but so wrong

He tells of mechanics secreted
in stones on far-over worlds
where beaches of diamond rust
halt fluxing brain matter seas

He endeavours to teach harshly
while they are youngster sponges
for that worked so well for him
his dry life and watery eyes

He waxes electric to scorch faces
waning limply in fragile truths
believing his way the only good
his world swallows all choice

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