where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to f a l l
crop circles in the carpet
sinking, feeling
spin me round again
and rub my eyes;
this can't be happening.
when busy streets a mess with people
would [stop] to hold their heads heavy
hide and seek
trains and sewing machines
all those years,
they were here first
oily marks appear on
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Comments 1
love.
Hehe.
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