abelian art project
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4th ave
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alex ambrose
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It's not like the sky was falling.
It wasn't. Skies don't fall. They dance. Dip. Undulate. But they
don't
fall. They're attached. Firmly. Like me and my anchor. Laden, but upright. Necessary...
on train platforms i stand too close to the edge
training for some sort of dare
platformed on fear
i think "i could fall"
standing delicately
i could fool everyone
too easily...