Days Eight (PronouncedAte) Up to Nine

We seem to have some peace

Though I sense we’ve not arrived to release

Too much love & habit see

For us to seal the sea as it parts

Verbal darts quickly spit

Through the ether, both too quick

So more time is probably needed

Even though the fruit lies in the seeds and

Ah, ha, breathe, uh

“I can’t love you this much, I can’t you this much”

Lyrics from the Blame Game, I love you, I hate you

Fly in from ‘Ye West

While their North lives with Saint

And Kim got robber, eh?

Too many headlines, and dreamlines, and crosslines

Fly all the time

Fly all the time

Flock of Seagulls

Mission accomplished

Stream of Conscious

I’m still damn tired.

Why am I so tired?

Is it my time?

Have I expired?

Today’s a bit of a wash, the grief been pushed to the back, a bit hush

Love, Love,

Flatline

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeePPPPPppppppp

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