The streets are static at this hour, but the avenues are lined with trees. And there's a rabbit running north along the yellow line. What a brilliant display of audacity, while I'm feeling like... falling leaves, electricity, forgotten languages. Something romantic, but lost, like 'take a penny, leave a penny' jars, or the second receipt that nobody wants. Unspoken confessions, damp sleeves, gutters filled with cigarettes butts. Reopened wounds shallow skin deep salt water burning. Have you got a light? Won't you spend the night? I'm sending this storm out west, to you.
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