sailing always brought about
this satisfaction
the drifting sense. doing it anyway
but no boat, shoes
the waves aren't water though, they're the fluctuation
of day to day matters. here and there. as you stand by
blue like the tears spilt [the auto-correction thing said this isn't a word but it so fucking is a word]
from the lack of presence
presented in torrents of categories arranged into
pigeon holed
universes just behind the shelf on the last left near
the drinking fountain
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