the train must have hit something chartreuse. how I'm feeling now is bad, someone etched "what this sucks" into the glass. the sky I'm watching is just sky plus a streak of chartreuse plus "what this sucks
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for me what is right is to put on a good record and if i'm with you i'm really with you & in the other times there's a solace of growth and death I can measure in myself, a loop sewn into perception