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...a hologram aching with adoration and a vague hope of recovering fifteen billion sweaty ballads from the colour of opium. one could blast off into theoretical nights, or freely choose to squander the new Eve on remixed whorls of metaphor. the scarab's initial relation to superior fingers, it was all a harbinger of the sweet, unresolved fifth that augmented gravity, the codes revealed by your bare shoulder minus the lattice of smiling numbers. I ran through the flickering conspiracy, baritone impulses splashing at my exposed knees and thighs. the logic of evisceration drank prophecies from the fluourescent green foliage, a satellite was given enough answers to question. on the cusp of a digitized sunrise with blank eyes and a frightening message from the automatic, I mourned what was ironic in you, the equations that drifted without purpose yet were capable of dividing the bluest sky into the syntax of my upturned palms.
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I come close, the edges hurt. But that is just my skin. Painted over with young weather, And that dries. Soon A river comes to closure at an open field.
My feelings elevate to an informal recognition. The repeat tones seem whole along the way. Some altars once closed off from likely symmetry are wild places of feeling, Long as these vibrating willows.
If I learn to listen, I can happen To forget I used to want you. Now that I am near, I have changed course. The path is evenly positioned between Flawless flowers miniature, wild with hue. I want to know sky's blue habitue. I have been swayed. This earth Is like my own. This most uneven town.
proffer north and downstream surname (gesture to lo mein) craft permitted and professional plots (sequestered) beneath besieged peak (as rules clot) qualified also peace frank (joy stick) lorn diet about coin chaste (first things) tongue quantity theory (walled off)
Is circumspection deliberately local? Why are you so young again? Remember the omega lurks where you have cluttered. Any day now there will have been salts along the runway. Keeping you in keeping. Far away. The sadness aches in retrofit. Be long and tell me hope repairs the woodland sleep. Compare me to a viaduct. If you were breath, I might have taken pains not liberties. The secrets fill a host of summers. Is July enough.? Not quite amended. You can listen to the monologue and call it speech. You can be informed and you can nest. If anyone is there, you can appear as far as you have been away.