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pagan poetry
pedalling through the dark currents
i find an accurate copy
a blueprint
of the preasure in me
swirling black lilies totally ripe
he offers a handshake
crooked five fingers
form a pattern
yet to be matched
swirling black lilies totally ripe
a secret code carved
in a palm of fingers
form a pattern
yet to be matched
swirling black lilies totally ripe
morsecoding signals
pulsate
wake me up
from hibernate
on the surface simplicity
but the darkest pit in me
is pagan poetry