the flow-rising river is grounding felicity below, so mark steel caps and angel crosses against losses, captain, for your strength is devoured by humidity, corroded by our loving waters... and don't look back into my eyes, doña of the river; my gaze is colonial and fierce. my brutal eyeballs score no mercy, least not on your tempered blades, your tapered shoulders, naked of slip, and from behind the leaf i watch, also, as fellow soldiers are run into the high trees like loose blood.
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