a slip into the ocean finds you singing at the sun as you draw yourself upright to be a newly minted one about the fields. it’s only something singing in your ear. it’s only what you know which is what you hear. so dissolve into distinction of the fear of placing arms behind a child pointing caution on the lawn. signs depicting you to have not the song to find the song, playing. be caught swaying to the beat. and know the notes beyond the street, swimming. and catch the mood. and be understood soon.
good afternoon, all indecent
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