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We stretch our bones, as we reach for a branch, as we gasp for air in the sinking sands. The enveloping of the nothingness is comforting, blindly comforting, as we walk through your ugly swamp you call paradise lost. Solitude and solid ground that's all we need to take a stand here at the bottom of the world. It's cold down here but we're alive and unafraid to lose it all, and things things will fall apart. That's all we really know.
In sinking sands on murky nights
know we're the eyes
peering through ghost
from shivering depths
to sanguine heights.
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This lingering highway is worthless use of state. Can we shift the plates and make the ocean floor explode? Or maybe California will subside and we can watch it sink from the studio apartment of our new Oregon home. We drift apart and start to sink, you seem okay. We shift in sync. We scratch our eyes in disbelief. The road is black, a piercing shade of lifelessness. We shed our skin. Expose our souls. Mix blood and sweat. An open road. The bending signs. Blurred photographs. Receding lines. A burning drop of gold is falling to the sill of the world, it drives us home. We drift apart and start to think, is this okay, hearing you speak through satellites in cryptic speech? The road is lit an eager hue of bright-eyed youth and I need to know what hides behind virescent eyes. We float face up along the interstate. Travel to a different speed, to a different beat. You and I are like where pavement and skyline collide.
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…so hard it felt like hail on the panes of our souls, seeping through the window sills, drowning us all. The lights went dim and our spirits rose through the crooked boards of enameled bone. Pioneers, o pioneers! shake off the dust, reclaim your ghosts. We need to find a better place to call our home. So we sail from shell to sky, living in the flicker of a violent night. The clouds cover us entirely like the cardboard sheets for the down-and-out. Pioneers, o pioneers! shake off the dust, reclaim your ghosts. We need to find a better place to call our home. We drift alone through streets above, vagabonds of a different sort. Homeless in the sky, displaced we need to find…
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