Blind throughout a softness,
predicting a stranger sort of blueness to my fingernails- gone right, with deep, within deep, without me
gullyness and fullness in hindsight, with those thighs, ignites steam rolled fisheries outcalling ruby folds
to walk among a man of sheerness and littleness, small arms and upturned faces, in spite of what was said, I’ll take you to the other one
gone later towards a crystal kind of moisture, killing my eyes these days, dark and shadowy I’d say, but then who forgets romance in the blazen yellow apples cooling under distant fingers and sharp tadpoles.
even if you could figure, it wouldnt be the same.
not without cause
of many things, or sorrows from an untouched kind of gaze, still waters never seem to fail that kind of game, still….it could be dreamy dimes and quaters for those of enhanced divinities,
it may in fact decide us all, those antipathies of woodless realms- called out but for not the rooms we shared
in telling a better story gray pebbles have washed away a curling wasp of time
candies wrapped amongst a snaky landscape of stale dolls in their of course, untimely demise