Dream #10

I could feel myself melting all over the ground like a chocolate kiss in the palm of a hot hand. He would talk and talk and talk. He would rhyme from time to time. Not like a poet or rapper. Just random rhymes. I had to pay attention to speak

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Worried Bout the Wrong Things

I see through it and around it. Miami heat is nothing to play with. Honestly I’m astounded, and annoyed to be surrounded. I’m out here melllllting. On beds of doubtfully baked air. Trust has us but us seldom means much. Imagine if giving up was an option. Ha! Never! I

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