Lost in the summer haze 
still filtering out those greys,
still absent in waste, 
vacant in change 
rearranging my stain 
an inherent pain 
displaced 
the colour 
drips, 
drips, 
drips. 
My bones leak into my soul, 
the mud absorbs everything 
but the flow 
and the black fog 
still follows me home.

The desert can be bleak 
especially when the colour
constantly leaks
and the sa...

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