Well, it's cold and it's quiet, and cobblestone cold in here.
Fucking for fear of not wanting to fear again.
Lonely is all we are.
Lovely so far, but my heart's still a marble in an empty jelly jar.
Someday suppose that my curious nervousness stills into prescience, clairvoyant consciousness.
I will be calmer than cream, making maps out of your dreams.
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