Scattered notes, all puffed up from virtuosity's capacious contrails,
Wiggle baroque concertos across the skyline of my years plus decades.
Such cacophonous barques steer poorly toward horizon events, also misdirect memories,
Cause all altimetries to remain confused by whispers of waves, of raving, of staved off delusions.
No longer does my boresight spin exactly enough for navigation's dead reckoning;
The spheres' music confuses yesterday's crescendos, diminuendos, and morendos.
Unless such blather, nonsense, daydreams, suddenly dissipate, disperse, go away,
They'll continue as refrains repeated again, again, again, beyond my reality's issue.
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