Care not I can make many more rhythms
right now when prompted
Too, new order-never placed spot on true
treeness via atmosphere-years.
(in here).
Help us. Past I caught looks; dropping
names, and buckets for rain,
wet-ware, grey matter, categories,
shuffling, say-ing-sing-song-sounds,
na, na, natural intrinsically nervy non
sense, while willful wandering whimsies
not here-No way! Cold, dead, serious,
adult hands, clasp, grasp
rigamortis or ultimatum sets down a
tension, an out line about acquisitions, not knowing
all Is Ars Moriendi, comprehension via dystopian villages laying in the
snow
to rest, a moment ago.
Well. Why not whistle?
Painting by Caspar David Friedrich [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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