As I was walking by the Larkspur the water rising slowly among the Asarums. I saw a sight I had not seen before. It had the majesty, the glory the praise. But not what it had before.
In the darkness of collusion amid the shadows of cigar smoke of the virulent I overheard a drunkard say as the repugnant stench drove me away. In my youth I was a believer now I believe in me.
The dilapidated steeple on the outskirts of the rising waters and moist city’s sing quietly in the fog. Was it a lack of organization? Was it they saw through your dying eyes? Was it you made everyone’s favorite person a new wave disguise.
Prose
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