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Forty-nine Steps

The tide of emergency hits, I begin, ten minutes, eleven, to refrain to retrace. Twelve minutes and I didn't want to especially hurt myself, I just wanted out, I did not want to play anymore. Destiny leans on with a hiss as blood runs out like water and circumstance irradiates the playground bordering the cracks I walk and almost nothing ever happens but kindness, shrouded and shivered in silence, in the new wind how clouds crumble and drift before I know all I want to do. The clock moves to twenty-one and burns through the cunningly detailed shackles of every lonely railway station, the figure of the tourist's hairpiece, her fairy's rubber breasts. I am the dark from the dark, the curtain rod, the dried fountain the trees buck and the pacific quake downwards the tide forgets. Walk. Forty-nine steps to go while you are still in one piece.

 

Thanks Antonio B. and Emile H.

 

The text is mine.

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Uploaded on August 11, 2017
Taken on July 3, 2017