Real Doors

real doors are not supervised, yet
two woods take time to meet to find those places
which are indeed supervised, or

they wouldn’t have met in the first place, but
real doors are real doors and remain-so and help
when the time comes for the wood to further enter

themselves entwine to inevitably discover that which is
fake and made with supervised necessities to keep away
the splinters’ shadows and all of that which they imply

for stark reflections are pointed at the needle depths of when,
the things now gone but figment sticks, the things which sticks
break bones when entered and congeal too long—sudden

pop and real doors die and supervision replaces hinges as quick as
a new born-sky, but instead of this or that occurrence, which could
of course un-do two strange woods which find each other in real

door enjoyment, the opportunity here is to lay bare entrance, to
invite hell from a friend to enter in order to go further than what
supervision had imposed as maintaining its stature as post-mortem

when broken resemblances had indeed entered and destroyed the
lives of the wood within, there is no
past in a true friend, real doors await where they are hypnotized by over-sight


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