The scent
of idleness
brushes us
by, renewing
energies we
thought lost.
franked and
labelled neatly,
message
them to runaways
and open
them in stealth.
woken in
fields of our minds,
creating
ever-new patterns
and words
we’ll use just once.
eye the
slither of grease & wet
the deep
slide on to canvas
of oils molten
in our hands.
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