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missing the crazed voice
he runs at rain's pace
raining white onto running lakes
a dot of ink in all of eights
in sheep's fur she gives chase
on and on till gravity breaks
in his mind a different race
dealing the card no one takes
holding the wind in his embrace
scarlet scripts bloom in grace
it starts from a cocktail's base
purple and violet mix in fates
scattered across open space
it's faith written in disgrace
tracing a dream in false shapes
