Surely it wasn't the storm of dusty bones...........
the evanescent rose parading hematite growth
grown by the light of hermetically sealed tomes
under and within the canopy of fresh-aired domes
bitter colonists working at redrock through dim shadow
to be banished from the good star sphere
and marked in their aching minds
with acid gamma and dry, unpollened aire
yet, this unshamed shame uncrossed and liberated
the new per annum tax code
the martian year: some six hundred and sixty fucking days
by tour of Sol
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