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The Contract The eyes of a flatterer either sparkle and bob dangerously sharp jewels in an open face, or float still as fish belly up in the sea. You go around your life like a tapedeck overdubbing a thin veneer of prescience over the veil of your presence. So you've caught people in your layers of self and they've sent themselves spinning around you like ceramic balls in the palm of your abundance eyes dancing and floating, open faces and closed stone, and I can only ask is that all there is? is that the way I want to be known? | |
| Damon Wyle |