WINE AND GATES

Yawns Or Years, Still The Blind Yet, The City

past the skill
advertised with a pill
the image of truancy, beyond a lords hill
the succor of jude, in the integrity of it all

the mouth to listen for a smaller try
in these steps is the work of wills
the rage of a top hat with your name on it, the acts of hide
problems of savagery should or not, the count of religion that spills...

skin seems to be a skill for all, the threads of paradise we accompany
then and there, the still of a homage to peace, the role of consciences
the taste in entity is everywhere, the tool of a lion to seek energy
of more than else, the turn of terror into a place for honored prescience's

do you require more than food and drink on the table of kind and king's may?
in the truth we see the place you formed for a marvelous word
like the liberty of an angel to devour the heaven of secluded irony
the act of sanity is forever the toll of a sacred bell, if but certain..

these doors of condition, in the mind of a same, if not faulty and new for a name
is like a kiss of the service to an ideal somehow greater, for a more to rest
the style of being and the briefness of a let of an eternal flame
your ant hill, my worth for a death in the family of the world, lest...

the truth in it all
the tooth in the salt
the youth in ages fall
the couth in honor walls

poignancy for a mind that will cope
the sin of a flower in the birth of a common enough turn of heaven...
is this cancer of here and after your only would to the waiting hope
never has there been no other, but you to know a space given...


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Yawns Or Years, Still The Blind Yet, The City

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