curvatures
In my dream jaw my dreamboat’s jawbone In my flood a sober seesaw In crows a kind of waiting meant to receive the balloons of the strangled In a film ghosting a film, In the church of rolling our own In mannequins where small things kneel that are living In jigsaws of the crucifixion and in the ideas my veins give to lightning In Ohio in my left hand what is elsewhere lost in a broken rabbit In the city the building thinks god will jump In the nothing nothing leaves
kingsoftrain 
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