Contemplate This Ball Of Fire

In depth, locked in season,/life spits out random terms/I like to see you judge from frolic/than sober words I frame./I respect the past more/because everyday it slays me/valiant in the heat of the fray./my ghouls, well prepared,/always make ready/to nurse us to health/ they’re despondent in roots:/Are they hidden in arbors,/or do they grow on vines,/they bring the moves of Venus/coached by blank children/their stare parts fog and vapor./Busy seeking my mind/I need to know it thrives/as unseen presence and serpent’s venom./The chance stays alive/ in balms that fix dark sorrows/their repose is drifting/in imagined moments/when lips lock forward/spastic,abandoned, but sustaining/they add false figures to your numbers..

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