Poems... peoeticly, poetic, promnently profound, proceeding through promiscious, premotions, of the probley perfectly problimatic, problems, permenetly peeling away the very core of our inner most soul.
My finger tips move through an arcitectecture thoughts
yet the words are not mine,
I think not my thoughts, but my thoughts think of me, and of myself, its mind, and of mine.
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