you are responsible while I am in repose
the picture on the wall occurs to me
I branch when you agree to cease extending past
the fragile opus of my winking sops up royalties
do these gloves belong to you just when the copasetic integers
begin retaining water
we have happened to be free by rote instead of purposely
the watch I'm on repairs itself
and brittle tapshoe branches knotty as retorts
come hither in a rush
belonging is a science turned to art
thou art my central melody
will you in turn defrost me
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