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bleeding a stone

windshield bullet hole delicately
stretches her tendrils

towards her intent to shatter at the next showing of danger (pulsing everywhere of course)

no one knows which seeds survived the crash

yesterday, the nozzle dripped incessantly

desperate for air, the wood went black

delirious bursts of laughter line the pockets of

experience, a balm in this insisentent fog

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