Little moleskine poem note

Yesterday.   My pencil n pens         Yelled at me
       Thriving unconcious howls of wolves
I dream.                           Of
   Rolling clouds logging off at the end of a dock I realize reality is a sting
I dream
    To wake.    To really wake and blink
My eyes for which or what went a little muse that I use.        To really think.     Surrounded.   Trying to understand you have still a ground found dated instigation.    Yet still.         I around
        Files a grip.        With hot cups to sip rally riots public Portland public schools, yelling and mean I dream.      That I wake and preliminate a controversy about my anxiousness, one, the only one.                                 On earth
       Weeks…                        I assume the seem and crave more for time to let the sunny side of wet.                                     Rainy building.   Scoring guitar fret vintage delay analogous beginning
last now
past fast.                         foam

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