....my heart bathes in a black mud of my thoughts
in profound numbness
and one incarnadine drop of wine...
..........................................................................................................................................
-
soey milk
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...the atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever...
w.whitman
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a.wan
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...collect evidence of euphoria...
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c.roset
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...breathe I say inside my head,
which is where I store thoughts for the winter...
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excuse me, we are nuns by carabella sands
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...to protect women who can’t stand in a room
holding hands because you can’t trust
heterosexuals to love love, however
it comes.
Bob Hicok
...and then we killed all the mermaids...
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