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Walking in the morning fog, icy patches, watch those missteps, the mist it hovers, street lights get glowing eyes, squinting, sizing up their appetite, as you are devoured going forward. Then out of the soup that tastes like every asthmatics worst nighmare, comes a howl and a growl, we will call him greybeard, and it was weird how a grown man, growled and howled while he sat on frozen wood, at five fifty-six AM and growled and howled at the glowing eye above him as there was no moon. He never saw us as we moved past, picking up the pace we moved fast, he must have ice in his veins, ice on the road, and sidewalk, veins of light and in his body, must have been the hand sanitizer, coursing through his veins, having a howling goodtime, with the cold empties lined up behind. DWE012014
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Ice in his Veins
Walking in the morning fog, icy patches, watch those missteps, the mist it hovers, street lights get glowing eyes, squinting, sizing up their appetite, as you are devoured going forward. Then out of the soup that tastes like every asthmatics worst nighmare, comes a howl and a growl, we will call him greybeard, and it was weird how a grown man, growled and howled while he sat on frozen wood, at five fifty-six AM and growled and howled at the glowing eye above him as there was no moon. He never saw us as we moved past, picking up the pace we moved fast, he must have ice in his veins, ice on the road, and sidewalk, veins of light and in his body, must have been the hand sanitizer, coursing through his veins, having a howling goodtime, with the cold empties lined up behind. DWE012014
darrell-wade-elverum
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
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