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Fakers don’t see fruits
As I do  and feel godly
Energy flow from tops
To the body below me.

I listen, I heal, I promise
Rosebuds and drink catnip
To their relief and I
Feel the strength of me

Yard sale bathroom cabinet
Second on the left, I’ve got
To stop someday, not now
With this soaring head

I’m a natural reiki mistress
Initiated by only the best
Or was it third? Oh my
Hair needs another dye.

The middle row of course
I wasn’t clear, three or four?
Wish I had soft peaches!
And my hair! Can’t see it.

It’s four today,  I’m stable
A month and I’ll deal with
Three of them is better and
I want them to my shoulders.

Preferably golden strength
From the universe shall come
Make it grow to three of the …
Heart pumps less, I whisper

Bromazepam should stop
Its course to the bottom
I hardly see the orange skin
And whom shall I call today?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

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Date: 10/14/2010 4:58:00 AM
The conversational voice is the centerpiece of this work of art again, and I enjoy the excursion through the personal world ... an exquisite act of defamiliarization. Good write
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