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the soft breeze divulging your manic rage.
mortal flesh, engulfed by
a delicate snow blanket.
whose integrity shall be plundered next?
blizzard and all, your ''aesthetic'' proportions never fail
to remain intact.
but the six hundred calorie lattes that defined us,
habitual cars screeching to a halt,
threaten to excavate them all.
mine, barely cling to mere existence.





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