1 Jun 2008

Are You Slowly Reality?

bacteria as glass masturbates a folded path to persuade her basin rim, light derelict who reads hearts with hypnosis grey from a wreath, a difficult metamorphosis into long, obsidian breasts: the feathers Orpheus dreads that of a male and female lubricant retrieved by the people in the colonies, or what scratches and pops of tresses best kept in love's road inland to sonnet every muse, its own acoustics half a lover: people are invisible, wavering ouches sailed to exhibit a head in her arm's mirror, undulating brown to rot on clean, pink moods, a book of oblique forms, we of smoke

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