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through forged daises made of coloured glass sleeping in their faded meaning casting miracles on cynics in a narrative not of quest but persuasion whose pupils fierce with good news and tidings swept masses reckless to find worth into a community of spellbound mousetraps shouldering each other for bait and while they gnaw on my peripherals i feel the creases of my eyes become ornate -- soft gilded folds bathing in cold light 070413