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Feb 2020
as i colonize my outskirts, moon junk sick with the real pity of an angel
but half the size of a whole thing… sort of a trojan armada
marching out of wasted time. a tweedle dee in the steam trunk
of my misadventures.
mostly maple leaf tempura
dozing off in a tempestuous kiss
like a pumpkin praying to Chinese
with a Pi.

we slip into the stream of our afternoon-
and dare the span of a constant dark,
our lanterns possessed
of all the fire we enkindle
beyond spark.
we breathe on the wind
that our sails obey.
however, lost.
eating gumption with
our bare hands-
like golden brutes
tugging sunshine from
a cave.
Third Eye Candy
Written by
Third Eye Candy  M/USA
(M/USA)   
48
   Third Eye Candy
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