| My teeth taste funny today… they seem more jagged than normal.
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| I"ve been told that I have been grinding them like the gears during my dream
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| hours…
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| I wonder if it"s just my thoughts fusing into one frequent dream…
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| one which parts with the night.
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| (There are frequent amongst the walking crawlers).
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| I saw them dragging the other day.
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| Scraping their knees and elbows against the bumpy pavement.
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| Blood tracks have been filling the streets.
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| Seems the high horse is taking them all home…
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| I can"t leave myself out.
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| Why should we sleep today…
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| why should we awake tomorrow?
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| We can just pop back a few and drift though this pre-programmed flight.
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| Across all oceans… a windy, noisy trek…
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| this seems to be what I"ve needed.
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| The view used to be better… lands are growing into one.
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| We wanted it this way. |
| We were brought up to grow into one.
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| I"m going to fly up soon and seek other lands. The soothing air of flight…
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| a bird"s eye view into what I"ve always imagined life could be.
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| Will it be sought after?
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| It might just be useless writing and ideas that laziness will corrupt in the
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| end.
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| Bones of dust need hardening. |
| I think the prescri
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| ption is found.
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| Sleep on… fly on.
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| In your mind, you can fly.
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| My teeth grin oddly today…
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| they seem to gleam more than normal.
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| Maybe it will be noticed.
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| (That"s all we ever asked for. Grinning through it all…)
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| (In the corner the thinker things: I seem more jagged than normal.
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| I am the episode of constant wandering.
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| A nomad in my own surroundings… this hand produces the nerve.)
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| Walking dead. |