The pea shoots out, again.
Time to damn up the wall.
There are no traces.
Net evil only :
mitigated to mystical uniforms.
This was known before.
Wild flowers blew across
a nullah of stirring oil.
Swarming yes weeping knots yes —
opening up the midnight forges.
Sweet miserable blazes
illuminating the ravaged corners.
Cease cease that educated dungeons devils junk?
The magnifying glass, repels.
There can be no permissions sang,
only silent foils
with gestures sprang
red as a feverish field
of regimental padres.
Hopes fervent treason
piling up like a cushion
against the brain.
Mulitples long distended,
a trembling illness —
that laughs with ardor, and the sun comes out
and the mist where it dazzles —
but evil, the net
sees only a household of torture.
No permissions sang,
to approach the lie is to die.
This was known before.
Hideous balcony
a nightmare of lanterns,
its theatre is that gift.
There are no clearings.
Rythms whose peaks talk in circles
exalt the purple,
colors of molt and angst.
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