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Monday, May 23, 2011

acrobatic.psyche



i watch cool nights through this cracked window to look at old men dressed out of style with smooth insanities like blown glass on your face, faded and pale, as dulled faint stars, lightyears away, cartwheel slowly through the soft firmament of mute straining trees. 

alone, with a distant light, i carve this ruined face as i dwell in the most perfect silence the world never knew.














what can i do? ^__^

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