

I am having a loverapos;s quarrel with words,
metaphors mocking,running away
from the brown paper i try to put them down on.
The book of memories, overburdened.
one too many a people,one for each city or more perhaps.
�
Hedonism clasping its legs around ,
Hedonism casting its spell,
stealing me away from her sister- empathy��
Times have made a whore of my ideas,
selling herself to everyone except me,
As your face twitches with contempt,I say
"Have wings,will fly."
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