we're wearing silly hats
bright colours dimmed with the lights
bobbles barely bouncing
listening to portishead
the bass keeping time
the warm air-conditioner
our hearts and breaths
with the silence of a frosty winter's night
haunting the external air
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the sun shines brightly cutting through the haze into tight corners of the post-atomic daze the concrete alley floor, with its broken flow...
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for fourteen years i wished my father dead at the age of eighteen i buried him it would take another six years to be rid of his physica...
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