precious time, saturated with desperation but lacking the drive to keep fingers clenched… trickle, trickle. wisps escaping. catch them for me if you can. sensory refutation; disillusionment. stimulation wave(ing)s dancing in my fists. i can’t go home if i’m with you. tear it off… crackle. slip. the walls of us crumbled in the gravel roads and yellow leaves, rumbling haplessly electric. hurry, let home come to me this time.
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