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Aug 2014
I want perennial infinites in
finished sentences. An understanding
of some certainty. But promises
promise only the opposite.
The ends of thoughts tell me
to only trust the unuttered
letters and not what it lends
to voice because
human touch only destroys
and dissolves, like snow
on your skin. The one thing I
am perennially missing.
ZT
Written by
ZT
381
 
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