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the venue

There's money hidden under the mattress,
And purple sleep in her eyes. 
Twinkle lights shoot up in the sky
With the crack of a lighter and a heavy baseline. 
The alarm isn't a problem,
She's deactivated.  
She crawls into the smokers
And the seedy, dimly lit basements.
Smacking gum and palms, 
Scratching at empty cups with chipped fingernail polish,
Finally falling onto the floor with a letter.



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