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my useless eyes can hear the tumbling slices of cool sky, my underwater ears can feed on starfish clusters as they pass me by, and on a drifting bed of ashes all bitterness of touch has burned. the whirling world of images and sound has turned itself so...thin - the outer layer of my hands, a new found land of sense-less-ness, can taste the fractured sweetness of your skin... |
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 new york city |
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