A swell, not gladly,
but like a wave;
against a rock.
Tis swell, this swell.
In my chest as I think of her.
In my mind as I feel for her.
Puzzles and games,
that make sense,
without cents.
But is that enough?
Am I swelling? Am I enough?
Is.. is this real stuff?
Please, let this be.
Let the train halt,
stop be mine.
This is real, please;
Memory see?
Because life is cheese.
Cheese is life.
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