for who's A M but mine could i stay endlessly suspending?

stealing no seconds while letting the smoke dance with the chest,

not choke, for it's an imaginary dance.

imaginary smoke makes you not choke

but you wear the vest.

ascending new creatures as creeping passengers,


nude spiral axis of any corners in space.

molding it as clay, and, in hands, as words,

action last's for a moment,

for a moment, no time.

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