I wake up in your dream where the green lilies follow the white grass to an arenacious mountain of snow captured butterflies and ants.The night descends upon the flowers,fossilizing them with war trampled voices. The caves are scratched with memories unguarded,untamed by words called language.
Hell finds a heaven amidst the spaces between our breaths,the wild pollens distintegrating into footstep territories.
The pounding heart and the trembling notes of punched numbers are greeted by a passionless purr at the other end.


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