I'm not that clear anymore, can you still see me?
The rubber band burns from the ecstatic
wagon wheels
and keeps on hanging
from the raw ground.
The beaten tracks constructed loud,
a screaming code of advertising
from the global grocer.
Forked tongues inside the thunder,
breaking ice in the night.
The wireless parts for back up,
no more interest to break through.
The raging craving kept on burning.
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