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1 Act terminated. The blood oasis lengthens in the leaves outside. The tomb sends its allies home. Minus and Iris paint over the bones. When the datura plains revert to “f” Iris instructs her brother to sing “f” but the “f shield” in the ghost’s hand lures owls instead. Minus knots nicely in the fire. Our allies await. * My system slowed down to place a pleat in the fountain. Nobody moots my calm. Beasts booed while cranes ate smashed apples. Minus entered a pensive shadow. Clear molds dented Iris’s brain.The tiniest cloud put a plume in my hair. The imperfect thread of our clinging hands will never blend its theses. When the opposite scale begins to beehive, we’ll feel the hair of The UrMane . ...

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