It's almost a perfect
disease, but then which
is not?
It's
the universe
calling,
it's
the rainstorm on picnic day
FORCING YOU INSIDE.
It's the melody
at
night
with you.
A gesture
unveiled
delinquent, smoke
getting in your eyes
it's not a metaphor.
Whisper Not your current
status, your rendered
inaccessible.
Bleed
for us your perfect
disease, your gift.
And let our medicine
BE
your music.
peN#983
3:24A
8.18.00 @ KPLU
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