Two fold outsid…

Two fold outside stretching beyond the green lines moving past the layers of sand. The roots are plowed, throbbing brown veins urging the sediments to clog away from their cellular-lungs. All around the brown pressing, pressurizing with vocalizations sounds that condemn the silent. Give away to a null of classification that rinses out the fungus raid.

By days jump on the frail paper. Traces of dribbled red ink. Imprinting a dead syllable all surround imitating the ring of death.

Then you see as far you eyes could believe. Without glasses I fumble seamstress chatting over the streams.

Regurgitating the spineless wings approaching nearer with every thud on the breast.  

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