POSTER-BEDS MADE OF CLOUDS
This life. This life. Is an ethereal
moment amidst stars and smoke
and edgings. We snap without being
turtles ourselves, and dissolve into
frames of each other. I think all
living devolves to this : we come
to do it all again, and again, and
each time, a different angle, from
a different corner of the
same damned room
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