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And That Is The Story

and I called it a deb date

it ended at the bowling alley in the bathroom

i drank a flurescent lightbulb, undoed the mistake

of a blue marble made into a bead

(and) tied into my hair with a baby

thinking blue, it is the one who it is that is thinking it that is whom

or what is it that is behind, beyond, next to truth, what I know about it and

what it actually is, somewhere along those lines once again within, a question

and forever on the other wide open, the dentist stuck his fingers in my mouth

without gloves on, and what is it to do and for what, the gloves coming off

the mind in the froth, boiling up more doubts once more, a shadow of true love

is a fear of a touch of remorse for not taking more time to get to know you

a thought written while thinking of A what, the idea of the mind to discover

the hidden truth behind beneath the surface too fine that a seed within me had

died and the light as it shines as I write as I know, what, I cant say exactly then

I know what I think of, I know what, right from wrong, without it where would we be

no friends, to choose to give in to the serpent speaking the shadow of a truer love than true

could not be could not see could not be the mortar in the canyon of fools, for whom and for

what the tale of the dove the songstress seaming up the knotting wood, reminders of places

I have been to before, reminders of things whiteout the brain, twas a blood twas a tear twas

by a babe that took me to a swing

she ate the word and gardened it

whose it was, i don't know who did it i don't know

who thought of, who I thought I was, thinking of

whether or not it is that I, in truth, red again

my birthday, we were celebrating, i don't know

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