Worth darkness.
Crash upsets the table of values.
The dent in the seat cushion begins to rise.
Light, thrown from the body, bunched on the floor.
Echoes caught on one wall and struggled there.
Riches of one thousand shadows.
Cracked, the container cannot hold the color.
A window, propped open, and a shiver in its materials.
Give me your hand.
I will hold it in the cold room.
While the rain maintains its grim position.
And the river goes over its stones.
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