good morning all overcast

tripped up, forgotten; begotten all plune with a dig into the earth or a swig from idle balloons which flow like water from lagoons and live like rabbits upon the moon.  there is no man which can be seen; there is no cannon boomed or cleaned; there is no lover’s lap too mean; there are no oddities.

ah, but what with a canopy’s eyes all shielded from a watcher’s cries for brothers; sisters watch and sigh.  i’ll make it on and on.  upon a wilderness all torn; behind an elephant whose horns are merely tusks all cut, reborn as piano keys all coupled with scorn or pennants none but withered porn you take into a corner store to steal, to borrow blues and ore to fashion sickness tightly born.

my, what a distant shadow…

the sun sets.

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