• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 02
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I'm afraid that you won't blink
Or make a joke but forget to wink

Or take a break to walk in town
But forget that my hair was brown

When I hum in the boulevard, I'm afraid
You would sing in perfect pitch
And leave no missing lyrics to bet on

Since too much of our best isn't us,
Would you mind settling for little?

Little by little, I can teach you to be brittle

Be both ductile and dead weight,
Be both story and secret
Be both awake and adrift

Be settled, yet tense.
Over the edge of perfect sense