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hard words or dandelion tea?


implications are not words--
they rarely cut to the chase
merely insinuate the distance
between cold sheets of light
and the water we throw on our faces
to awaken
from the gloom and doom on the one-way
street that
reminds us silence is the path around those razor hedges

once words were green fields
blue skies filled with echoes and clouds of unknowing,
roar with their big heads
poking through
and no one hears the wheat grow
bending into the softness


the dance of the apostate
whirls and twirls
stands on her head
laughs at her folly

she is the company she keeps
and no one is the wiser.

Review Request (Intensity): 
Please use care (this is a sensitive subject for me, do not critique harshly)
Editing stage: 


Just kidding about the critique level.

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