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The sun has escaped from skies above afloat in the knotted clouded waves The fire glows the amber summer flows sticks blaze in beaded mazes as the flowers pots remain emitted and rearranged My soul and body is bathed inside the glassware the visible tattoos on the mesh of transparency As the residues settle on the heats and beats of the base torn apart and bricked on concrete grounds the pavement of yesterday sketched inside cobblestones Take all these books with printed rhythmic vegan lyrics the fleets and flutters on the wandering beaches and shores Blossoms of twigs and darkened patterned wings all sunk in a plastic paper bag and crowned with outbursts lost in a dream, that cream that pastes the narrowing masks Float high above as the sun warms inside the boiling soup, as the clocks ticks and the birds whistles of a wayward destiny Caving inside the aisles of the never ending lengths and depth where reality itself serves as a mirror of fortified intentions   a crucification and maturation of destitution in demise To lose, my use and reuse the attention of the days gone by
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC
Float In Skies A-high
The sun has escaped from skies above afloat in the knotted clouded waves The fire glows the amber summer flows sticks blaze in beaded mazes as the flowers pots remain emitted and rearranged My soul and body is bathed inside the glassware the visible tattoos on the mesh of transparency As the residues settle on the heats and beats of the base torn apart and bricked on concrete grounds the pavement of yesterday sketched inside cobblestones Take all these books with printed rhythmic vegan lyrics the fleets and flutters on the wandering beaches and shores Blossoms of twigs and darkened patterned wings all sunk in a plastic paper bag and crowned with outbursts lost in a dream, that cream that pastes the narrowing masks Float high above as the sun warms inside the boiling soup, as the clocks ticks and the birds whistles of a wayward destiny Caving inside the aisles of the never ending lengths and depth where reality itself serves as a mirror of fortified intentions   a crucification and maturation of destitution in demise To lose, my use and reuse the attention of the days gone by
wrote in a hippy party..... live free.... be all of life..... feel the spirit.
Jaq
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC
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