Lightning in rainbows The cutting edge of clean October 29, 2022 Leave a Comment Cancel Comment Name* Email* Website
It all depends / on a chimera cookie / blessed by heaven / and trestle baked / on the felled iron gates / of hell
How is it not magic, that this planet is floating in velvet space, rotating at a thousand and thirty-seven miles per cesium second, traveling at sixty-six thousand miles per copernican day, circling the central star at five hundred and eighty-five million miles per sunlit year, gravity-vaulting the moon at twenty-two hundred and eighty-eight miles, per levitating hour. How is it not magic Even pancaked, in blueberry math
It is always, always, *ππππ€ππ¦π *, about the One, and only Most especially after all the ones πͺ, who wonderfully pulled and nined you, all the other willowy wispy ways
The catastrophic atomic domino avalanche cataclysmically canvassing the supernova of destinyβs indelibly edible whip cream energy atlas Effortlessly in love
The exact arch. The precise curve. The delicate dive. The carefree wave. The radiant round. The resident break. The dynamic detail. The wonderous shape
Movation, by novation and volition. Via cartwheels, backflips and somersaults with silly faces, feigned graces and outrages
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