Cum granu salis
There is the commitment of a slow suicide inside my mouth flaring nerve tissue makes me a beast of seconds foregone my extravanganza, the wordsome Walpurgnis Night of wild hue candelabras burning into the popliteal intimacy of progress - relinquished Swearing and sweltering I lock myself in debasement reddish eyes sore at glaring screens a ...
we hasten not
it is high noon and the bright fruits shine in the air is a promise of decay we let the sun pour its old light on us and bury imagination in warm smiles we save up for higher seasons, for longer shadows for deeper promises and gentler declines slow and infinite are our thoughts, we ...