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***
whereas flooded
and overwhelmed
becomes the bed
of the river
that spill
but arise
white fangs of pearls
sharpened
like the
edge of life

therefore cursed
we are
beneath the
hideous moon
behind
soiled graves
wher the
blood fluer
leaks
the immortal
breathe
and the fire
that bleeds


" we run the nite "

* blue









© gary bell

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