The sun breathed air

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20111129235920!Sun-in-blue-sky

Its mood reflects a sunny irreverence,
Crash and burn in a 60 mph zone.
It’s throne betrothed, and a moon to behold,
Excel to find and unfold what ancient skies behold.

A shape unknown,
What we’ve outgrown.
Trees breathe, smoggy air
A cold, still cold atmosphere.
No sooner we arrive, from what we leave,
The second we touch down, an ultimate indefinite crown. 

I’ll come back. I’ll come back again.

Climb higher into the fog,
Where officers warn and travelers clog
A desperate smile a handshake outworn, torn between,
extremities and undertake the moon that cries

Whisper whisper, a sound unspoken, 
Two touches, red black heights,
The fight of your life. 
A country with no voice. 
Unlucky and unwilling to be told,
Your too far gone and insignificant to hold.

Touch my arm, how does it feel.
Soft warm and uncomfortable,
All that particular spiel.

Black white and freckles outspoken, 
Sun glassed eyes, with little to no cartilage.
The incline of the mountain, the convoy leads Broken.

With snow unbound to reach the very top,
Stop, flop and drop a pass to be seated,
Upon mental and chair, suspended reaching, branching for a touch or a tap of a bush overhanging. 
Remain seated, arms at the waist, time to get off no time to waste.

Strap, secure and adjust. 

The wind echoes either side, the sun reflecting angelically sparkling like sprinkles upon a cake.
Guess the ending, whilst chaos and blame ensue.

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