of all seated in a circle
around you
with the exception of one
place,
sharp spice to the left,
mouth watering sweet
fruit to the right
and suffocating incense
across.
yet all you can smell
is, not only a sour
throat clenching taste
but his home, too
and it fills your head.
the clock strikes
time that's the same
backwards as it is forwards
only upside down
and your heart destroys
your careful composition.
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