A splinter in the finger, tore your wing; the ascent not clean; into the cold red lights. Dancing a top old chandeliers, half hung forward into crystal tomb. Embodiment in the altitude; cold blue ambien room. King prawn’s paint the ceiling. Chrysalis bloom in view, still-life mirrors; caught in the vapors. Temporary shroud of chains glistens for a better past-time. Evil eye stares back at you. Lightening strikes, benzodiazepine nightmares ignite; a mass hysteria ensues, pregnant pause. Beat down on me tonight. Faceless hypnotic induced dreams; prefabricated hearts made from barbed wire. Umbrellas, soft drinks, and a varying arrangement of assorted colored fish. Spitting carnations in a soft shade of blue, the mystery, it’s mystery lies in you.
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