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Prayin' 'gainst the weather...

into this world we're thrown

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not a soul in sight
18 November
I am but a minion
of that which they call the Sea
I am one of the women
who through fire and smoke create themselves anew
and rise
only through death by salt

I will die by drowing, when I am older.

I am too young, and yet I feel so old, so old, like butter spread thin over too much bread.

~like a rat in the maze, a path before me lies: and the pattern never alters until the rat dies~

~and the people bowed and prayed
to the neon god they made
and the sign said 'the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls'~

~three-thirty in the morning
not a soul in sight
the city looking like a ghost town
on a moonlit summer night
raindrops glowing on the windsheild
there's a storm moving in~

~tell my wife I am trolling Atlantis~.

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