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Mere Poulard Mere Poulard
Recommendations: 5

You can always get there anyway


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soul mates

Today my fingers feel like silk
and the sky is infinitely wide,
Why doesn't it look like that all the time?
The air is perfect and tastes sweet with pollen,
strange that i've never enjoyed it so much.


All the mush of autumn washed out by hard winter and melted by spring is gone
This moment is a peak and so it can't last
Already leaves seem to be falling;
I've barely closed the front door.
White flakes of paint are in my mind, like drifting petals;


'The peel is a sign of disrepair!'


The house screams to me from the grey static on the TV
Synesthesia takes the form of that image and the smell of bad cooking


'It smells like bad cooking'


Says the smell, pungent with dry observation.


I'm not hungry for cheap bolognese or whatever else you have to offer,
I want this and that,
I want to go to bed but there's a wasp nest in the attic
Positioned above my room, and my head
Vile constant buzzing seeps through the boards in the night
No one is awake for me to talk about it to though,
So I typed this and when I was done,
the sound of wasps became the sound of birds
and the TV died some how
and the dry flakes were screened out by the rising sun,
and I was saved from the above.


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