Random thoughts 6

There’re peoples in the walls of my asylum aching to breathe heroine breath
Other exhalations of desire end on empty silver tea cup saucers
Those breaths never make the way into mouths gaping like birds waiting for food
My people wait for star shine in glass cathedrals
My people wait for emptiness to fill
My people long for lasting hills of fresh mown grass and trees laden with new fruits
My people wait like Casablanca expats
Forever in these walls and never able to fly

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