Extra
words go to extra places. They fill that amazing day under the
password. They exist in parcels delivered to winded trees that find
rhythm. They aren't for friends exactly.
A
miracle encloses all that smite found. We can name names but not
people. People are a tribe aloof from, strainingly. That's the plain
diagnostic added to gun control or open your fat mouth. Your fancy
word for poetry becomes undone.
Spurious
pleasure, the kind that takes minutes and takes them, this is the
prevalent noun. We exclude because we are tempted. The rocks on the
edge of the ocean know better. With elegant prose we spell clever.
This is the last word before dinner. May we all crash in peace.
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