Harmonious lantern.

Weeding out the alimony from heaps 

Of strip teased bodies Filed under lint 

as moths at lanterns we speak To 

the harmonious Strangers treading boards

Those vows that could have had a rippling effect

Within the confines of train doors.
Ravines at a end as it faces down that climb 

That was so high a figured map might of helped

As you look as weighed down as atlas 

Below the gardens and find the alibi 

Is a skimed milk read. 
a chavaunistic movement of style 

its countenance to sleep deprivation

as it trials reincarnated semaphore 

lots of signals that can’t be read. 

Can you read me.

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