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Saliva's Spawn

In polite quarries to quarrel over time and nature.Your nature hippie vibe came with you in a tarot reading. Framing every other gesture as a threat of some sort, we had our best time while complaining on the way home. No wonder why we're so alone. Rickety wooden houses with glass structures, torrential rain to view from a VR Dome. Medicated on the past and the future playing at the same time. The consequences were never made clear. Saliva's spawn and the nature of regret.

You made it sound like the chance was looming. A modern romance so touching and blooming.

Midday yoga's interrupted as the cats come to sit on your face. But there are a million other ways with which the day could start and you're with your friends. Made space, made time - the chances are receding further. But I've got time to take my medicine. No time for squalor, no time for anything at all but the buzz words of a generation so lost in itself.

Could it be that by the forms of disease, I become a victim by certain decrees?

Photographing yourself getting older every day. The shade and filters of neurotic cigarettes, the token gesture of an anxiety attack. If I could have walked in the forest alone. To see what junk was left behind. The targets of many an escape clause come closer to make one feel good. To see you in that rickety old house way off in the forest. We are with time, a closing statement finalising deals for how our deaths will go. Small print, fine print - the legacies of greed we've left behind and still I wanted to feel like I had a chance to spin the wheel.

The next time you put on your disappearing act, let it be that your clothes are intact.

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