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neth jones Apr 2016
drinking my moth away
laid out in the potion
a whum, wing and a daze
a sway
a motion with the undergraze
i brighten a pipe full
i become in spirit with its corded sage
and a flutter
as i fright the flame
free from the match-(dead)
a muffled bray
a pleasant wern
i climb a breath
and shudder into bluffle
drinking on my ownsome
an eye on the night to my side and uncurtained
my other within it
carrying a build of annonomous fear
i'm able to smile alongside this

— The End —