Is There in Art No Science?

Pedestals lining the balcony straights
For perturbed documented locations of beauty
Social constructs and feathered highway skies
Those who have internalized lies
Those who have internalized beauty
See no sacrament in the science
Of an arm moving this way or that
To and fro, like a lightening storm
On break for the afternoon
The pain it retracts
Is a pebble in your asphalt
of sleepy dreams and tornado skin roads
Refractors and currents in the ashtrays
Of your solitary divining dreams
No, you were never here
Not present for the moment of heart palpitations
Or surfacing seaweed like a spark left untouched

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