Linger lady squeezing not through your narrow halls, suspended in mid-sentence for all the gazing witness. amen to my mistress, my dear progressive something, looking toward insanity to drug my naked nerves.

teetering on treetops still, months where i stand open, walls to tell me where to walk within a limbo place of hows. the smells of all your longing, thinking, questioning my presence. conversation sinking, repidity of reflections

the glance upon the shoulder where i sit, wishing off the cliff

darling, whom were you addressing when you dressed me with eclection? (new world order aliens and conspiracy theories too!)

sizzling in the skillet still my talk of trance-like superficial, to culture me with cinderblocks all maraca-ing in my skull,  man

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