Thats a high kind of place
You find me on page five
I'm wearing drab yellow
And eating toasted walnuts
I'm letting someone scan me
She says this is no scam
I hold her in ribbons
Red and white
She looks like an angel almost
Her touch burns then melts
As sea painting drip their acrylics
Nails speckled in fake blood
A false name like an AI
A false dream connecting hard
Thin pathways
And arches.
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