a golden bow a frozen flow not freezing water making. but pausing bodivistas in the moment to examine their resistance to slings and arrows drifting in a out of trance the dancers start to materbate the issue, which isn't sex. monkey's nails wrap spine smells like harsher addiction smoke, Alan says we shouldn't choke after ideal words, or over ether under glass (A. Chid whispers selfcontained wrider's made paper bleed blue truth in passing Down I go, falling up mantra incomplete eyelid landscape orange aura flesh ripple taunt going grey before my time, the mourning birds notice my sorrow but I still got ill grief to fly with them.
