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Mar 2013
Boiling up to the surface, my flesh cracked, teeth grit, and my eyes forced back, as the searing heat, outwardly breathed, with arched back, heaving energy into the sky, shattering the projected dreams from a rusted machine, in the heart of a vast wasteland, where we arose, and saw for the first time.
Michael W Noland
Written by
Michael W Noland  Seattle
(Seattle)   
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