October 10, 2017
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trickle into something oceanic and unstoppable
where the sheets are clean and the dust settles over our wellformed skulls
where we are pure and unabridged and exhaustive
and cannot stop our own thoughts from doing whatever it is that they’re going to do in record time

that friend of mine that I hate, that lonely creature exultant in an empty white while


nothing stops being or is stranded, nothing
is this gentled
effervescent pearling


the universe not quite washed out from behind our ears in a

wholesome fanatic’s corded  muscle

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