Breathes Weed

@ end they walk out the door and go dif ways

heavy electric fog settles over the days
expectations generate abstractions frame our
days change thrown into the Styrofoam cup of time
a pity to note the movement of Man and men in poverty
dire everpresent and deride yet no feather out of place on this wing
and may all creatures number themselves one and cousins of
Death—delineated as seven minutes after the stopping of breath
alas, we must suffer no to orient reaction according to scale of Narratorial ‘I’
grew accustomed to certain nausea being drawn into the pattern of your
patron and a tyrant beyond oil the water rises to greet
and meets the fog the sea breathes 

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