I am still caught between worlds, a burbbling pool of lost innocence, yet returning from the hole, my life renewed and slightly dirty, looked upon a if an apparition glowing green in brightest sun beams, and shattered glass cleaned from cement and chalk from abandoned black boards that read of bloody shame, the frozen bodies of youth and black spots of death upon the rest of em, and setting suns for years blaze across the earth for plants and birds and the grave yards on Colma Hills.

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