cloud after cloud, we sway on porchswing. watch the sky replace itself. i fear we’ll become a timeless cartilage—without shine, brownrotten’d. i fear gruesome’s lightning. i fear the hologram made to bury our beautiful faces.
Eden, calm berries sprout our heartbeat thickest creased with red torment. i rumble for those i love, but i can feel my small, small heart denied so much. i wear this metropolis ill-relinquished—memories at gasps and fond. my script to follow, mocked.
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Paul Cunningham
