Sol
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Taking apart piece by piece, the memory rolls on. Gathered behind were color coded demons folding intrinsic wings. One goes vivid blue then a humid red. A Tropicana night was thousands of stars that smelled of spice and tangy tones in hula skirts that takes the breath away. Shimming down my boat of thoughts shadows intersect dust of past numbing touch. Never having the time enough to learn, just random falls, it quickly reaches then, fades to darkness.
© 2009 v.j.m.a.
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