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Friday 12 February 2016

Harsh night.


Bed crushed, if crushable.
With average roll on double.
The wind bell like noise on loudest ring,
And those of rainfall thoughts like pendulum swung.

The paint of thought on the sky of my body,
Made my breath dirty.

With significant breath of air dose,
Endured along.
Resisting with eye closed.
Reserved optimum energy on red.

The warmth of body at peak,
With ocean of blood on rush.
Yet another season of harsh night on the row.
The tide has risen!





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