Strange. Surreal. Shocking. Beautiful.
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We find them sometimes,
I grew up among the undead
those sepia strangers
blank faced gypsies
who framed walls and cluttered shelves
the saddest of angels is a girl who spends her days on black basalt boulders & sings the colors of night: crimson & cobalt,
The splintered scrape of broken bone,
When you are done with wizardry
Existence observed, without passion, the brief time of humans,
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