Ouch! That is not my line…
Grand canyons in flesh marking what evers of what haves are left ooze melancholy.
What spirit does not bury, but carve?
In between worlds we all surpass: exist, for now.
If ever seeming now; light years and imagination creates Van Gogh's and blockbuster sagas that leave belches of laughter emanating from a drooling open mouth.
To wait frozen: unadmired.
To crawl: applause! applause!
To live: respect.
To love: love…
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