Un-phased, I see a
soft haze coming from your parsed
mouth folds and reduced lettering,
that I never let escape from the back of your tonsils.
And tonight I think there is room for a little more back talk.
As I notice the less I become, the more of others there seems to be.
So I draw back into the turtle shell.
Steady the helm
of your rocket ship,
as we bla-
stammering along they all come to check out the
movements of a small one.
I am the best of trouble.
And you, the worst good there is.
-Swillow
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