it was a siqually thrust,
and over-aggressive stare of the, sky,
rendering skull bones detached,
likely torn thought,
murmuring like flies over,
rancid grapes,
dragging my legs over thorn of time,
teasing sounds pierced my ear sacules,
motive....to aware my soul,
from hotly glazes of the sun.
one spash of water wetting my eyes,
who could be the food of
wild velocireptors,
they need their hungers,
exagrated with promises,
of proteins,
dribbled sliva showning their tactful hunting,
Radar and bullet useless,
with fused batteries,
i am to run back with angel,
from the warfare, of drea
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