in there the hours, have a lacking, which could untidy even the neatest of bound hair,
placed upon the light cyan band, walking head down along isles
flip more coins, to the ground, pick up more lint on the skyline,
break, more of the motions, in commissioned, talk, shout, out the balcony
you can’t afforded to keep on. No, let the words; be carried away, down to
losing the sure, figured outcomes; convenient is another consumable.
there are no citizens
left, to speak worlds to.
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