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Love, Numbered

Is that a reach. Was it the beginning. The Who? Where is it coming from, what is it
Doing under the bed. These cannot mix with milk. A wrench will bleed, the skull ties
Wet themselves and envelope a whole suckling. A tapping. A move. The wrench ties
Them together with the dancing. Has it numbers? The rapping. An unwrapping of a dawn
Movement, it is such a wicked touch. If you so much as touch its grain, if you hurt
So much that the toes your feet anchor upon will bleed, then the wrench will move

East
And all the sunrise in heaven
Shall feast and you'll never as much as shed

A Tear
Since you'll have left by then

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