the end comes, yet again
today it ended...broken from the start and never worth fixing
despite excessive momentum into previously un-discovered territory
//her smile free snapshot lacked the substance that pain is made of
fragmented silhouettes of panicked and lucid ghosts are all history can swallow
//her disease was infected with infinite talents, under exposed...
foreign and calloused hands following the compass north...
southern exposure was never worth the threat, a massive sun-driven dance of spit and liquor...
tomorrow's burdens are now unglued and her techno roaming nudity can slip into the passive sea...

what is that a picture supposed to be?
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