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Disconnected

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I am from vanity mirrors, reflections filled with swirling smoke drifting from cancer sticks
From vanilla perfume, settled in a murk haze over the sweet smell of vodka and water stains
I am from pulsing music, technicolor lights that send seizures through tunneling eyes

I am from the silent scream of closed doors, broken only by raindrops
Gray storm clouds glisten behind quiet eyes
Like the decay of red roses

I am from the smoke of triple apple
From the trees dancing to dubstep
From orange skies and swirling clouds
green blue and purple grass swaying in the nonexistient breeze
I am from sparkling smoke and light trails, dancing with rainbows reflected in kaliedascope eyes

I am from everywhere,
lost in translation
A different part of everything
Disconnected.





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