Updated: Nov 8, 2023
we lay tangled in the grassy meadow, with fingers sticky from sun dried figs among the pouches of sweetness fallen down from the ficcus trees. our hair drenched in the july warmth, in the garden sprouting within us.
i float on a still pool of milk in a stance with the stellar bodies, watching them violently collide with each other. andromeda with the...
my sleep melts into a million tiny droplets of dreams. breathe a sigh a puff of cloudy mist. what more could I want?
drunk in the fallernian harp, it makes me see things. ain't i too young, not ripe and mature enough to be picked yet. so, let me hang on...
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