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Can​ó​vanas​-​3

from emma goldman / clavel split by Clavel

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the view from here is unremarkable--

tall grass swallows the sparks we'd controlled my tongue learned from surviving itself in the heart of this calm there may be no Nature but empire corruption be my bed we're trapped, trembling like dogs, in the laundry room here, suffering slips through time here, exhale flies

--my dear, small, sorry enchantment,
I waited to drown with you under a still, dark sky

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