• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 04
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We resemble blushing fairy children,
Born from smudgy pink.
Dressed for rock and roll,
bathed in normality’s glow.
Shadow beings.
Out of the toiling lights
of lustrous colour,
our soft heads exposed.
Our Right of Passage.
We are Infinite treasure,
we will be replicated
on tissues, on letters,
on the lips of Elvis.
Tears mixed with spit
mixed with tears.