I walked 52 countries wide 

my feet weary and bruised. 

i let the tide wash over them,

52 lovers all die, a muse.

With the crashing of a wave,

their indifference

to the sounds i make,

to the waves of frequency running 

through my brain.

8 hertz and 8 hurts,

A stranger

in every town,

speaking the tongues 

of the Pentecost.

i sit on th...

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