why is my future in my past
we are rolling
where did the two
go if it is one in grows
rose holding gold drop
middle of the whole stock
to shake you awake
not to be blank
but renew your bank
statement of blankets
scare sacraments awake
the painting sets the scene
holding the beam exclaims the stream
of conscientious thought ran down and caught
a hook on the hand looking like the pirate pan
come get with
is begging for your hand
fan out the paper looks tapered off in the trap
stomp on the slide
gliding on my ride truest design
purest of the realized
I drop my real eyes
for the feelings serialized
killer feeling few signs
pulled by no mind
he holds his own light
to the feet of me
hard to explain really
drifting at sea
I find we lost our keep
happily
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