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Just A Scratch

i can't remember if that is what it said, putting the name my sister gave me together with


abhivananda in a bed, i suppose it will always bee like that all the things i will miss about


what an addiction, everyday the conversation is happening and everyday I see it pass by


me another leaf in the stream, ill never know what it was ill never know who it is and I


could create an infinite number of ways to work around it, the poison, i was wearing it


the t shirt just then i was surrounded by a rainbow looking gold talking again like the


second book i wrote it goes acceptance of death as a gift, a thousand and one names


you give yourself, it is the one that other people know and not you, something that will


haunt me forever ain't that the truth there it is again the second hand falling for a minute


sakre bloom it is a curse when written it is the offense touch of a dove's claw that says


do not tear my wings off again before the letter read the red with red ink written readily


that tiger's eye is the reflection of a diamond's mind in the secondary perspective, it


could be a million days it could be ten thousand and one that is the sand the one that


you counted wrong, and it goes back a number or two to a question, did you count wrong


is it the number or the song is it the way to forget again where it was i left it, sat Ananda


writing the story he was dreaming about thinking about writing the story where you left it.



I was looking at my hand, i had just finished doing my laundry back then, it was a moment


ago that was morning, I was getting my grub, I was eating, it pains me to say it again,


creating the rules of the mind for the truth it was the theives it was in the cave it is stolen


a diamond from the basket of the begger in the casket he was dead he was gone he was


floating all along then back from the clouds back in from the lounge looking for a glass


clown to shoulder the basket for him, all of this woe all this tangled and throw again it twas


just a scratch cat song it was just the bottom of the album I still have yet to return to farms


it is the story of love the statues of the dove he said i was waiting for you to write it crow


do not wake him up again he is sleeping he is ten we are twins he is tim and that was when


i knew i was taking this scratch too far it looks like a flame i just looked at myself again


but if it was longer it would cause me to think that this banana is monkey for a skateboard

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