REGISTERED CLIENTELE
I've got to get out of the sun. There are days
when it burns my brain, and they're coming
again. I am the janitor here, in the larkspur
school for dead minds : I wake up crying singing
'Ah Sunflower weary of time! Who countest the
steps to the sun.' All the noise I've made with
my mouth - singing upwards to glen to the
abode of the gods. 'Who seeketh after that
sweet, golden climb when the traveler's
journey is done.'
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