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That badly dressed vacuum
That such mundane deserts
That
of words as broken
just the jaws of skin
It rains, it rains, it rains and never stops
That inherent deception of your eyes
my skin feeling underwater
the moving among the leaves,
always dodging
to keep dry as a desert,
that illegal presence
that warm arms enfold me,
that harsh cold inverse pole
While I am you are north south.
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