eventually i can't see with my
right eye but we have more
of those. who unburies any
mechanism from our shared dirt,
theirs the whole thing to oil. but i'll
help you eat through your hunger.
out wading with the plovers not
a lick of language somebody taps
somebody crushes the grass and
it comes back in through the
eyebrows. taken in under the
condition: we're here again
tomorrow.
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