This sea wind driving me
by unknown spirits
desire is a crystal that just shines through in every sunrise
no see. This tide wind
it does not look,
overshadowed by a barely think,
is stuck in the middle cross flow of foreign
imagine pleasing absurdity;
a warm reflection passionate force
impossible for me to deny that fate will pop
regions ignored.
And maybe at night you can imagine
a tide in the arms prints you
winds of my chimerical dawn.
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