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Dripping Tongues / Poisonous

layers of incandescent mysteries, i couldn't, just the connection of minds in belief of thy


self to thy deepest self recovered, control, what is it thou dost, mind, what is it thou are


connecting to, through space, within I, all to the wind swept setting of the sun, all to the


past already gone, all to the movement of the serpentine dance, all to in the eyes I know


all thou hast, given, all thou must give more, all thou hast within, not a measure of the


measureless store, of what is within, of what is growing deeper, what is masking reality


of what the dance does, of what mind to mind we breathe, and as breaths life is death


we give, and what we give is sacred, what we are is spiritual alignments breaking pulse


things shifting, things explode, carried away I am by what, vicious, she is, by and by


in the reflection of each the drops of dew upon the grass, still yet to be, interpretation


I think not, this is something that is, this is something that is, enough, of sharing.

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