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Nov 21, 2024
After a grand design there was a white leap to find a boat in darkness.
Time was dusting the frame of memory, and the age will grieve for the lost vision.
The pace of assaults will increase over the burning windows. This was my privilege.
The tongue tastes a superbug. Some celestial entity, guideless but ready to rub on the flame.
Here lies the moon of beaten stars. Nothing was terrible in greasing the naked groom.
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