if i were eastern and you were blue. and oceans were the things we screamed into nightmares when we were overtired and not sleeping nights. then maybe things would feel more like cradles. rocking. and televisions wouldn't blare this room madness horrorshows. now only my temples ache. of calves pulse. full veins of blood and stained pillow cases. lust. if i were silent and you were you. cash? and things we screamed into oceans made us rock less. maybe. then;


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