The block resonates with what happened before or
a flower, flourishing and flush with what won't
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I mean really, what was the outcome supposed to be?
Sent via my smart phony little excuse for angst, piled upon pilings the flinging thing that we cannot speak
Of less than we were five fears ago.
Playing on the wind.
Composed on the lung, a cough aghast, a fear to commit.
Come again?
With what shall we askance the Light
a way: say now, remember: how it's all prison prion pry on, son—the Ayes are getting sore up in here and I don't think
That the silence is a means to escape just yet.you know we Have a pager, a means to the forgery. Forget
what it was now, know
That all flaws are intentional, all intentions a lapse in our attentive laps.
Slap my ass and sell me a book of lore.
Or were you expecting something more?
Or is this the right way to encap so late and soon anon—
And all my doubt is a staircase for you more or less, guess I'll see you.