(hopefully brief)
we are all but sharks in the planet’s glowing tides snapping at spilled blood and exhausted by a need to grow teeth some days a deep breath means looking up... missing keystones and folded tower-blades, all in the seven greys of a dead fish, clouds raked into piles and societies bent low, as dogs in the rain
Great
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Thanks!
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That last line is worth saving to a list for using again. It stabs at ones heart.
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Thanks Misky. Some days it all catches one unawares.
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The ending is powerful.
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thanks!
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