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red eyes glued to storm window

something in the sign in which you pen me
something in the burial grounds in which you den me
something in the illuminated images in which you pretend me
the yellow blues of the caution lights do rain dances on my sanity

see, when you walked away, i became a cross legged cripple 
there was no longer heat in the center point of the simplest ripple
i commenced to banging my head to double and the triple
oh how i yearn for a cheek, a pearl, or even a nipple

if there was a wishing well at the end of life's force field,
then i would build all around it the mightiest surefire shield
not a soul could get through it even if one attempts to yield
constructed would be the formation of our own brand of guild



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