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when the dreams of the morning

happen before midnight and the

ground is ripped up like

a soggy carpet, you’ll know

what the sun brings when

it rises, red and 

rusty.  you’ll take the knives and

steal the woman, because she 

finally speaks, but she doesn’t say the right 

things.  You’ll take her to

the field of radishes and

multi-coloured carrots, you’ll dive into the

pale blue lake and swim away from

the siren calls.

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