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? when I last looked you were just a wee lad but I turned around twice and you were gone grown out of all that I had given tossed to the side I felt your eyes, the last time we spent that day... me packing up you with your camera were you filming me to remember? or were you looking for...

flutter moths and bitter flys defy the web that hangs between my window framed in sunlight, and undressed limbs with tiny buds busting forth as if tomorrow was not soon enough for them ... and I alone beneath this moon cocoon not quite caught tight and held by weblike tendrils sticky...