failed book plots
automatic writing, phantom limb
the familiar refrain
hope for the end of dark days
graceless depictions of light
the building that we build
gaze over the edge
when the river splits in half
throwing hexes
a year of oil and sand
rebels and their cries
endless distractions
the whitecaps of memories
wretched palms
cheap music
so long to the holidays
this conversation is being recorded
for your ears only
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