It’s in recovery, she said, and I didn’t question her.
A mission for a vision is stifling me.
Unabashed tapping out a tune just to clash,
It’s in the tiniest of flowers and a picture of a moon,
not your own moon, mind you
do you mind nevermind your mind?
And to your ears it would grind.
How to unknow, desensitizing.
The ribbon of your voice is prettier than I can bear.
I called out for action but the camera never moved.
I stood looking ’round bewilderedandconfused.
MomenTUMMYACHE.
Silly achy-pants
the dog, underneath the mistletoe.
how far did it go?
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