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She’s breathing on and fingering

The words that I’m imagining

In the glass she does her make up on in


I’m just a fish in a barrel

Going over the falls

While she skates in endless figure eights on top


Invisible walls

I keep on crashing into


She hid her heart in a lock

Bound with short skirts and knee high socks

The illusion of the world is kept like this:


An uncountable number; an impassible distance

Travelled for years, but it made no difference

The edges of existence are impenetrable 


Invisible walls

I keep on crashing into


No matter how close I get I’m still just as far away

(S. Smith)

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