From small things my love grows, From small things I see grows contempt. The small things. Ah, the small things, The shape of a mouth considering. Considering the shape of a mouth. A rambling, to a look; a look, to a rambling. From a movement in an action; in an action from a movement. Silence…
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You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away
I scrape the dirt out from beneath my finger nails, as I walk away from your unmarked grave. My nostrils flare. My lungs ignite. With the dark air belonging to this fissured state, Never to be tainted by the sun’s rays. I take a sip of my unsophisticated elixir Shrouding my footprints with a self-cultured…