in the newborn hours of the morning
when it is still the old age of my night
i melt away the cocoon that envelops my neck
and from my lungs springs a new creation
in polar opposite to my pedestrian self
this beaded centaur gallops to the outskirts of my mental forest
and infringes on the wild and the spectacular
clawing at the whispering dust.
-Pamplemousse
when it is still the old age of my night
i melt away the cocoon that envelops my neck
and from my lungs springs a new creation
in polar opposite to my pedestrian self
this beaded centaur gallops to the outskirts of my mental forest
and infringes on the wild and the spectacular
clawing at the whispering dust.
-Pamplemousse
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