i threw a stone at my bedroom window, it rolled over glass and sat in the gathering outside. my eyes flickered beneath slumbering skin to the beat of webbing glass. a million stones drizzling against the wall as fingers wail and lids are closed on desolate space
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i continue to teeter, or flounder as i have recently come to describe it. currently i hold a glass of southern comfort as my head maintains the perpetual bob; back and forth
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eating so good choc soy ice-cream. so cold, so soft, so delectable. sooooo good. i am a spoiled vegan, i should have one celery oblong and a carrot triangle jutting from either corner of my lips
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burgeoning energy and an inadequacy. i hear silver speed in heaving ideas. the cognitive lapse while this pulsing hue embraces every soul, every light, every word
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the sadness was rising to humiliation, so i ceased this thing. now it only eddies some place dark, infrequently familiar. so im beginning again
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my scenic boys are sleeping inside my bed. they purr and snore. i am inept of their eloquence. awake. grey. veined. both deplore this monotone. my every day bruise. its every day shades. they feel sleep. he cant understand my feelings are without even the crease of primaries, a low humming. now without pitch
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