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Apr 2018
I left my bed that smells of you to the kindness of a stranger; your memory will be taken care of by someone who will never have to meet you, someone who is not running away.

Every place a story, the bitter sweetness of the unknown running in spirals on the palm of my hand. The whole planet, a prison of freedom, heart open to mysterious tongues, consciousness spread to embrace the winds. Borrow my eyes, bedbugs and aching heels, if you please. Hi, I'm not home, don't leave a message.
Yellow Boots
Written by
Yellow Boots  Mazunte, Mexico
(Mazunte, Mexico)   
     ---, Rick the shoe shine boy and emnabee
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