I hastened myself to red

So I like poetry,

I like the visual aspect of it,

If in turn I become short,

and allow the image to exhibit in vengence

my meanings.  Forgive me.

After I have seen through the horror.

(Yes images like this make me feel borrowed, a vessel towards an unknown, not a study, just a rendition of what will not be in futures that I have allowed myself to become to be beloved to me when I know, intimately, this sphere of interest of mine is dying.  Tell me again.  I’ll tell you I love these pieces as artwork when the rest of the world sees them as possibilities of development)

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