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There is nobody to leave you in the sands, Where you leave yourself and the range of thoughts flows freely, And the 20 mules are stuffed in some museum--their final gift There is no place to clean your wounds Just sand to stunt the bleeding The Paiute, drunk off cactus and smoking themselves into oblivion They understood that the desert has no need for sadness the desert IS sadness. Searching for what? Food? It's all spiked and scared of you out here-- No love on this plane, just in the shape of things The nick of ***** The bleed of seed The dream Eternity.
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Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 5:22 PM UTC
Walking Towards the Desert
There is nobody to leave you in the sands, Where you leave yourself and the range of thoughts flows freely, And the 20 mules are stuffed in some museum--their final gift There is no place to clean your wounds Just sand to stunt the bleeding The Paiute, drunk off cactus and smoking themselves into oblivion They understood that the desert has no need for sadness the desert IS sadness. Searching for what? Food? It's all spiked and scared of you out here-- No love on this plane, just in the shape of things The nick of ***** The bleed of seed The dream Eternity.
TimelessWave
Written by
M/San Francisco, CA
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 5:22 PM UTC
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