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Shyanna W Apr 2015
You shine,
brighter than the constellations.
The curve of your lips,
welcomes me home.
Written in 2013
  Apr 2015 Shyanna W
E. E. Cummings
my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
bellowings.

— The End —