MOS: Ijiraq

Come over here.
The vineyard of dreams
The slow rolls and baubles belittle,
Husbands and wives mingle in the abandon.

Tonight we will mine the soil and leaves.
Pressed in, pressed in.
Press.

If the stone breaks
if the rough pebbles are broken,
a lattice is stolen in smiles and vows.

We will spit and smoke,
and dance upon you.

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