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bleeding a stone
windshield bullet hole delicately
stretches her tendrils
towards her intent to shatter at the next showing of danger (pulsing everywhere of course)
no one knows which seeds survived the crash
yesterday, the nozzle dripped incessantly
desperate for air, the wood went black
delirious bursts of laughter line the pockets of
experience, a balm in this insisentent fog
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