Harking laughter and tiny voices across the street fill the air; as carefree free as they are, tomorrow isn't even a pebbled thought away. Here, there's only a slinking string of time and space, with crickets fighting for the darkest deva sound; it's in-betweens it all that there's a great... pause - the leaves forced upside down, the grasses waiting to be part of wilted vindication, and all the birds coming back from the edge of dangerous sleep deprivation. Yet one noise, transcends it all: a hissing, damning calm, saying: "It really shouldn't be that long now."
Knee deep in swirling grass, we kicked drapes ajar, unapproachable invertebrates so frightened they, belted notes that shoed us onwards, their harped voices pulping us together through transient trails trekked along weary markers. The whistling blades like candor propaganda we could submit the past to. We gulped on this mending ambiance, pills that forged titillating embraces. Soon the rumble of aching ground would surface as a scowl, a pasty lit horizon that tripped on photons behind the clouded fog in our minds, it was alluring bygone, all wet lipped in dank and smoldering auroras that held out for us. By then we chased each other still, so rash our thoughts became obfuscated and made the fuzzy outlines in this foolish place seem sane We became doggedly timid. Fractious sensation itching in preachy rapture. The sideways hormones obliging all yellowness to blush green in twilight-ed circumscription. It was then she finally took my hand. Our clasping silhouettes resonated to be the rhy
We never should've hung pictures up like stars of hope on lonely closet doors like two galaxies spinning around farther and farther out forever lost in the disjointed space we've become
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