darling, you have me leaning over on my elbow and shoulder
musing into an evening of psychedelic projecting
about whether to keep our hope a smoulder, or make it
die in spectacle of effect all during one big affair.
spiky pines barely darker than the night to the West
come out in relief when there's a shining saint to shine
this wild hypocritical mayhem festival, cannibalism
good thing the right drugs have trickled down to the kids.
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Doom's Repetitions
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