Crammed temples walk cooly along
long cramped streets
A wilderness of walking trees stretching limbs
Swiping
Swiping
Swiping
dirtying an essence
Yellow turns red blinding
patents clog bohemian streets with judgements and partial lobotomies
There should be a wind in which escapes a grin
grins of boardwalks fried-somethings
shallow water not hands, please
I'm hungry for salt water, penetration below the waist, suits don't matter.
I want to run next to the ocean and not lose my breath.
Do waves ever get tired?
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