contantly, I leave my eyedrops around this deep window
I breathe thy air, oh contant muse, follow me
And how I breathe at thee
I ate the wonder of your constancy
Follow my footsteps who I wonder at
And I do not pattern the depth of my thought
I cannot sprung on the eyelets fallen
hung-over and so befallen crust of dawn
begone oh stung breathren construed for
lovelorn poverty, wrung out towards the fallen
fruit of grave freer as greave friend greer
repent upon the window of my pounded lips
singing and realising there are no more truths
fulfilling my mind forgetting the couth stars
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