sing this place in between now

oh words,
words,

words.

soft rain, when fall beckons winter,  is cold

.dangerous.

wiping away all traces of blue, bringing it

down,
down

to earth.

from here we decay.
from here we are born.

sing this place
in between now

.sing.

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This entry was posted in communication, event, graffiti, poetry, silence, soundscape, threshold consciousness and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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