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Note the not s in standard situations
In weird accounts
Wild child s
in the night with their offspring dancing like fire
Such colour viva all vivacity  
Stowing hungry funds with their green curling performers
Playing at dolls and rustling crisp skins
Crunching munching wiring will entangle you march you along
Into the still rain where the tune played will your fortunes themselves lead into
Implausible instruction  
Beyond destiny where stars beam through an empty sky drawing in and can entangle  
your thoughts into knots and ribbons
Count the improbable wounds inflicted or just be
Electric barbed dragons softly intertwine in a lattice scoring blistered flesh
Leap hurdles as revenants reach out rotting arms encroaching on the sentiments I can t  
stop perceiving
Hope to become an amethyst or a grape swaying softly in violet night breezes
Or a door  
Or a catch within the rainbow of sapphires a woman in the clouds
An overseer
Her whip and chain s should not teach us
believing that the horizon beckons beyond a brink cluttered by jagged dagger remains
Because sparkling fuses will fizzle with intuition.
She reaches out her hands
Simply imagining why her guests are gyrating in a harem; the djinn can escape  
without their best wishes
Here no body dreams and no images escape such careful planning
The boundary was never in any doubt
Before now
Seahorses pray in their pagoda s playing softly on ocarina s
Ha they might fit the benches only the arms are shaped slightly  
Riding little gem galleys gently curving away from their grottos swinging sensitive  
to kiss heady new currents
Seahorse of the sea so beautiful with shiny scales
Drifting past coral houses
So silent in their rows of treading friction s

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Ballad of Easy
Through grains of sand whispering across my clenching hands
Dropping like fiery comets into the abyss  
Each flare from their passage reveals a patent message
To which my spider fingers creep and commingle
Untutored in the art
Poor students caught
In webbing of their own device.
I was caught meandering from the moment
And that fear has me in its grasp
Winding me round and round
Until I am nothing but a pincer
Plied to squeeze and shake
So that your tongue might lap
At the juice bursting forth from my succulent abscesses.
Some may call me a whore
Whilst I smile down at the rays of the sun
Beating fresh embers upon my face
As I haunt the last twilight of the earth
Others may call me a god
Displaying my secret seeds to those who show faith
Only in me.
And I call myself a paragon
For there is virtue
In every second
The radiance of the moon  
Lies within me
Mined from the destiny
Which through distraction we forsake.

U get me? It's east. We humans heal. Now.

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