point thought prose, astrology

tweedle-dee and dum, i dont type with my thumbs, but is that what they're really there for?

grumbling tums, as no food man comes, but thats what they call hunger,

i wanna be an imagineer, but dont have the tools, cos i lost myself back when i was an irreligious fool, a wanderer always but never finding the way, and dark all around more than i can say.


dark is where there's no light and it's always night, and the end's not in sight, right?

waves pound and crash and cover and desolate

an island under the stars, but they've forgotten how to read...

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