... and what is this? Scrap of sassafras, eh, Sisyphus?
life is thundering blissful towards death in a stampede of his fumbling green gentleness <3
The firebreather is beneath the clover.
Beneath his breathing there is cold clay, forever:
a toothless hound-dog choking on a feather.
scrape your knee? it is only skin
makes the sound of... violins
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