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Garrett Johnson Aug 2019
Hallow Canvas.

You will have seen it shut.
Traumatized.
Mortified.
In muck.
Realizing it's the only combatant of it's astronaut collection.
The real slow of the slow.
Hired to build a balloon palace in plastic.
Wavering.
Hovering in total silence.
Though it doesn't know any better.
Still.
You cut it's head off.
Taste the innards.
Tastes like cinnamon on a yellow rustic cup.
I think it's going to be ok.
We just need a little hug.


Garrett Johnson.
Floyd took my pink socks.

— The End —