Catch-22
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I was caught between a rock and a hard place. The ancient cliché was literal. I was in the dust storm and the moon seemed tiny. 18 was the number and it seemed it would stay that way. 22 was the catch; I was ready for release.
The lines of reason and absurdity swerve and converge
Strings snap among the multitudes that once were
Worn down by steady silences
Foundation, eons old, crumbles and soon
