Off from splintering wishes comes the pain that it won't return. Found amid the oil stain'd water mildew willow leaves steeping gray. Head down as always and only half a mind for sight, I'm rushing against conclusions i must face. Narrow against the falsehoods the rain begins to break. Off a few minutes It's coming into view, cold and cubist against cyclone suburban skys. In measures I'm holding on but there are no songs today.
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