I thought the glare
was from mystic gaze.
But it’s okay I don’t
give care to give chase.

The tulips rise up
where buried corrupt
is the intention of
those we surround us.

Fail do the swells
of garden fairy tales.
Of the ocean in motion
where creation repels.

The life here we choke
hovering air is a cloud
that keeps me from sleep
I hardly ever allow.

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