gray-matters-4

Parallel souls surface.

Tepid, rusty oven doors…critical, tired and old.

Again, the scattering of orphans…nothing but out dated candy for the eye.

Disfigured misfits falling from the austere sky.

Harvested crusted cuticles,

just surrogates from the wrong side of the tracks.

There is a sisterhood to what lies beyond the facts.

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