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Feb 2015
ii
the way i want you
so ethereal
i feel lighted as
we speak
my throat catches hard
my skin crawls; is gone
snare drum noses
in a cavity populated
with sugarbugs and
lightning rods
narcoleptic lips trace
arias of sand against
collarbones
my imagistic descent
into coral lined papers
inner tongue colors the
edges of our orchestra
our ballad of temperament
our skewed talents invoked
candelabra memoirs
a love of no soul in particular
ΟΥΤΙΣ
Written by
ΟΥΤΙΣ  delphi
(delphi)   
1.0k
       Molly, ryn and Ata
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