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10



Sinking into silence. Tidying up by tying stones to unsaid thoughts, letting them go. Water
sweet and dark, whirling slowly and creekily, playing around the stones. Already cold.
The glue of connection hard to pry free.
The level of grey can be cranked up, if desired. Just like that. Just do it. To top it off, as it were.
And for a moment you think it will go unnoticed. You tell yourself it will be fine.
Looking out those demented windows, past the flimsy excuse of a curtain. Looking at the trees, not moving.
Looking at the road, not arriving. A thing of beauty, rusted. The wind is not here now.

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13

it’s not what it looks like. it’s much much worse. i found out the other day. The champagne was sweet, we had it opened and it was sweet. I wanted to take it for a spin so i tried to explain. About the lies. The small common misunderstandings we require to function. The looks in your eyes. They should be bottled and sold. They are a rare commodity. Take charge. Never mind the propaganda. Feel the silken soft touch. But beware the beautiful people. They are not to be trusted. What can i say? Corrosion. Corroded. Shifting shape. becoming familiar.

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Mean looks mean. Curiosity can be hemmed in, but not drowned. To accomodate it is necessary to allow a free rein, within the boundaries of the concept. This is modern, useful approach. This is pragma, when results and not appearances matter. You can forget the guilt trip, it does not compute in this environment. Just look out for the green, ever moody, likely to shift on a whim.  You got to work with me baby. Don’t make the mistake of thinking.  This is more about feeling. A touchy subject I know. And Aldred…no let’s not go there. I must obey the rules. I will obey the rules. The rules are mine. I rule. Think for yourself. Feelings are overrated. This feed is monitored.