closed open

closed open.

brightly hoping .

while the process is coping.

it’s still gotta be done.

ain’t no sleep until rest awakens the sun.

even when stranded on teary oceans, my eyes promise building notions…

“what did the sea say to the boat?”

“you’ve become a little to holy, now you’re unable to float.”

what is going down is determined by what’s been found around and by the ‘who’ has already been made the clown.

closed open

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