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Stepping on a sound puddle Beaten by the wall of mute dark shooed and cooed by the voices in the sky The smacking of gentle lips before they sigh The sound of your life The doors begin slamming one by one As you run down the corridor, run Hands clapging in a dooming chime the laughter washing through your hair Stop. Start to dance. Lift your fingers and strum. Strum like you’ve never strummed. The beat grows beneath your feet Flowers spreading into a senseless street Boom Boom. The voice. The base. Your lungs filled with heavy sugar dark sugar. Caramelizing as you dance. Move. Move. Until that skirt lifts, until those toes hurt. A carriage of snapping fingers Delivering beat, that once belonged To the silence.
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
The smoke train
Stepping on a sound puddle Beaten by the wall of mute dark shooed and cooed by the voices in the sky The smacking of gentle lips before they sigh The sound of your life The doors begin slamming one by one As you run down the corridor, run Hands clapging in a dooming chime the laughter washing through your hair Stop. Start to dance. Lift your fingers and strum. Strum like you’ve never strummed. The beat grows beneath your feet Flowers spreading into a senseless street Boom Boom. The voice. The base. Your lungs filled with heavy sugar dark sugar. Caramelizing as you dance. Move. Move. Until that skirt lifts, until those toes hurt. A carriage of snapping fingers Delivering beat, that once belonged To the silence.
DaisyChain
Written by
New Zealander
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
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