Any way you read it.

Slipping into and out from occasionally feeling something ain’t right is it temporary? or is the impermanence I feel here permanently. Trapped between the ice cubes and malted milks I drift off into Summer she wears her silks is it real or illusion? do we advance to a fusion? slipping into and out from occasionally…

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lazily blue

Sometimes just to spite myself I don’t like myself won’t write myself but in spite of myself I am…

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