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attempting to follow shadows Every attempt at achieving comes with a lose footing; a smashing of a non-matching puzzle piece; a lose fitting, a face formed with teeth gritting, a nose on the grind. One tight bind around eyes to blind just giving a piñata swings for the mundane manana. More bringing away from facades to the mask-less, at heart the adhesive is moving with the congruency of bouncing between the self, mind, and the outer cortex intertwined. As mingling to vary status; as this solo apparatus operates... for that one day that clenching is more than quenching, greater than thinking. There is something to be the prolonged fingers holding on. As said memory comes questionable when reality is meshed. The first hours after wakening are dull, but when the candles burn to just a wick in wax, the mishaps are so-called learning experiences; Then label this so-called genius on the edge of self understanding, ready to drop, culture and ritual as if the seeing is looking. More often than talking just a wish of maybe the belonging is a hand open, but if never you’ve seen caress, just the glistening of subtle touch, and being left with crutch to help get over what was lost. Thus the fixture is never permanently attached to closure comes when the gates get the cob webs off, and the opening up doesn’t come with losing comfort. If only I could afford the alley, but I’ve already broke too much, to walk in the dark against these vices a single silhouette. Through these shades posing as if the shadow maker had something to hold. |
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