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Oct 08, 2009 17:53

The waning green the staining sheen the part of it left thoroughly. A breadcrumb trail between each veil of lava flowing evenly. By this logic, clipped nails of kings on scale with queens and tipped-hat greetings. Elevated meetings in scenery marked by

The blood in the shed, the shape of sin in canister.
A parade down the banister.
Where the rope makes a shadow, mistook for a gallows.

The waning steam and staining gleans the partly lit camaraderie, from the clenching of fists and the trailing-off wisps letting in the hum of electricity.

Turquoise Hexagon Sun
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