Another lame poem about what we hispanics call "el fin"

The imagery is consuming
on a fire in the second realm.
The terms of the contract
are being raped by the train drivers.

I dare the past to be true.
I dare death to be present.

We found hope in the vomit
beside her in her great white robes,
in her sad little room,
crying for her broken telescope.

I dare the gods to fall on us.
I dare the clock to find infinity.

The fight between Peter and Paul
at the final part of the road
is crushing the meaning of end
eating the last supper of the Jesus.

I dare the summer to go cold.
I dare anything to be.

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