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{ars poetica} paul adrian mabelis The ambient chill of the balustrade, the strange bedfellows we made brag about our beauty or the moods we were in when rage-ridden heaven condemned us. Oh safe-haven for what taxes us off-shore. Poetry reserve your requirements for when I am more emergent, though urgent care says otherwise as the phoenix rise and I forget where I am momentarily. Ashes strewn all about like words - like worlds carefully placed between birth and death. Refreshing. |
