March 26, 2010
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Bright lights down the misty avenue
Smears of white and hazy blurs of blue
Handprint freezing on the looking-glass
Frame the hurts of now and joys of past

Swirls and lines crossing my wet eyes
Nothing new, only thoughts of you
Hear whistles of a train that isn't there
Planes floating and soaring throught the air

Blobs of color fall like rain
A ghost of a good mood to shadow the pain
A seashell found far from any sea
Just a memory, an echo returned to me

Neon signs and dirty puddles
Words and sounds, my brain all muddled
A single mound of liquid color nestled in my palm
It spreads and flows and covers me in its strange peace and calm

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