One of the lines is keyboard spamming, but then again, every word is a jumble of letters...
Hope Valley
lying rotten, trembling,
as the glaucous glacial darkness
repels upon the pupils
leaning, learning,
a shoe gaze muffling,
shuffling, feedback
starved,
echoed into
space
and h/tugged by an anchor
floating
within an album of memories
moderate
poor…
the storm is the angel’s cry,
ghcfoiudwqhuduyuhdyweiuk it goes
an alarm, a call to arms,
you shall not enter
you already swore
by your silence
taped bandaged
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