oh, and how it gets you these bastard assumptions, one or two commonalities
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
like bell bottoms or disco but we need it to think i’m dead
I understand the tattoo now “VERITAS” on your wrist, only there because it is entirely absent everywhere else.
the very idea that i could be
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
yes, i’m saying sunshine & rainbows will flow from your heart & other lovely places like living liquid
reflecting on the moment before, would be useful only were it not already perfect.
i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly
simply knowing you’re in a maze doesn’t get you out, but the fact is the foundation
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
love does not beat on doors, beg at tables. it is always
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.