so truly
do i hang on silence
reading into its tension
its crinkled tea leaves winking
hallucinating flippant judgment from its purveyor
so falsely
does its meaning rain
and drench paper cloaks
that drip with memory's ink
staining each focused breath
who said innovation breads attention
how does it apply to the second string?
the benched fringe of anyone's need
i put faith that adoration yields scraps of allowance
but secretly wonder if it simply yields annoyance
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