Days apart when made a thought of something if can do, desperate air that made that true.
Believe in something unreal, some practical words coming through and acting along the sphere.
Walk and run on steps bit by bit for it to touch bate once charming glare.
To proportion to complete the short of late, strucked to think and remake.
Once that meaned sooner that a stake, later found some missing plates.
To hear unsound through ears rounded and put in place, to listen through red pumps as it makes.
I want no facts to explain, my words force the same, me held apace atlast a place.
Poison that my fingers hold yet an apllause to name it made, I hold me myself unique alike to fame, yet me myself insane....
Friday, 28 June 2013
What That Means?
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